“I accept Your Will Hashem,” I whispered, “I accept this nisayon, please just give me the koach.”
Just recently, I counted. Seven, Eight, Nine… Ten?!
I am in the middle of my tenth trial, sent uniquely for me from my loving Father in Heaven. It started Erev Pesach.
The kitchen looked like a space center, there were enough lollipops and potato chips to last until Succos, and the table was set. My boys were napping blissfully in anticipation of the Seder, and I was basking in that Erev Pesach glow. The phone rang — it was Mommy. But as she spoke, her words slurred into each other. She was in the hospital, she told me. Three thousand miles away.
It wasn’t just a stroke. There were several strokes, the result of an underlying liver malignancy, and Mom was placed in the ICU.
Create a free account to keep reading.
