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Benjamin Reuben Bielecki; his names were as ironic as anyone could ever imagine. Benyamin? Son of my right hand. Reuben? Look! A son!. Ben stared at the TV and sighed. Adventures played out on the large screen oddly felt less appealing. He had on-line buddies as well as several from school who almost drew strength from the artificial wars and skirmishes.

Ben played along, so to speak, because it was pretty much what he did to fit in. In his other persona he fit in rather nicely as well, but not as a pixel-version of a battle tested warrior. He was glad that no one knew about his other self…at least he thought no one knew. Naomi Bielecki stood at the doorway of the den and stared as her son played the game…

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Chapter One: Hartsz Vertik (Heartache)

December 18 at the Bielecki home, Peekskill, New York...

“Aw, do we have to?” Ben called to his mother as she summoned him and his sibs into the living room. The old man sat in the corner in a worn armchair; a relic of a day gone by and out of place with all the new furniture that filled the rest of the room. Ben was in the middle of the latest version of Call of Duty and he hit ‘save,' knowing it was an argument he would never win. His gaze lingered on his avatar before he signed off.

“Yes, you have to,” Naomi Bielecki said in a whiny imitation of her older son. At nearly eighteen, Ben might be ready to take on college life next year, but he still was a member of the family. And while Ben was reluctant for the moment, both Rachel and David, the Bielecki twins, were eager. Even at fifteen they remained odd amongst their own peers. While Rachel’s girlfriends seemed completely enamored with music and makeup, Rachel was wrapped up in math and science. She would be the twenty-first century Marie Curie, she had told her parents, harkening to her family roots. It was almost a sure bet that she’d be accepted in an accelerated program at Cal Tech or MIT.

David was always reading; everything he could get his hands on, but mostly history. If Rachel was the next Marie Curie, David would likely be the next Wil Durant or, better still, Elie Weisel. If his father had his way, David would follow in his footsteps. Stanford…on a football scholarship. But David?

“Yeah, Sure!” David conceded. Stanford…maybe, but a walk on for Men’s Chess or Trivial Pursuit, he had joked. But like his Zaydeh Jacob, David had a passion for the past.

“Gather around, okay?”Jacob Bielecki wasn’t what most folks would recall as their idea of a Jewish grandfather. For one, he was raised with a Polish name; the family name was Blumenfeld, but living in post-war Poland, nearly every Jewish family he knew had adopted a Polish family name; easier to fit in, his father would tell him. But the family never lost its heritage; Jacob’s father and mother made sure of that. So even in the twenty-first century, oral tradition meant something more than just a story at this time of the year.

“Holiday? Choliday?” Jacob would joke with Aaron. “It’s sacred and special, and not just because I said so or even if you heard it in Schul! It’s important to you because it happened and it was a blessing.

Judy sat down next to the twins and smiled at Jacob; at eleven, she was the baby of the family, and she was still happy to hear stories and tales even in the day and age of Disney Channel and Cartoon Network. He nodded his head and smiled.

“You know the tale of Judah? They call him Maccabeus…sort of Latin, but we know him as Ham Makabi… Sledgehammer…. That’s what he was in a way. Very brave leader of the revolt against the Selucids… Antiochus…they named the city of Antioch in Syria. Well, you know the story? The temple was desecrated, and the only oil that they had to light the menorah was only enough for a day, but when they burned it, it lasted eight days. A testimony to His faithfulness! So they proclaimed that it should be celebrated as a festival of lights, right?”

Judy and the twins nodded while Ben strained to look past his father Aaron to the football game playing on the TV in the den; the game might prove to be a welcome distraction.

“Pay attention. At least be respectful!”Naomi Bielecki said to her son as she closed door to the den. Ben faced his father and tilted his head and half-grinned. Aaron had heard the story a million times and he would rather watch the game as well. He shrugged his shoulders in answer to his son’s expression.

The young man turned back to face his grandfather and frowned, wishing he was somewhere else. Jacob smiled at the boy and nodded his head. It was an old if familiar story, but Jacob also knew that it was the tale within the tale that he shared with his grandson that left Ben in both awe and dread.

“Now when your great grandfather was a younger man, he and his family lived in what is now Poland, but it was called Prussia by the Germans and of course it was part of what they took back and forth for centuries. We usually got stuck in the middle, like we were watching a football game.” Aaron’s ears pricked up at the word ‘football,’ but then he realized that his father was referring to a soccer match.

“In Europe today, you might get in the way of a celebration, and maybe bumped into. Back then, we were more than just spectators sitting between the two sides. Many of us were…. Some of them hated us so much that we….” The old man choked up at the word ‘us.’ He wasn’t even born when the horror took place, but it spilled over in the lives of his family members as so many of his older cousins and his uncles and aunts perished. He fought back against the annual assault of tears and grief, struggling to remember the end of the fight rather than the beginning.

“Your great-great-grandfather Dov fought against the Nazis with the Russian Army for a time, but he was killed in Stalingrad. His daughter…my mother… also fought against them, but in the days when we still could and did fight in Warsaw.” He sighed.

“Like Judah the Hammer Mama was; or even a tiger. Only one of a few women who escaped the ghetto one day in April in 1943…Passover of all times for the Germans to kill? Like Yom Kippur in ’73, yes? She was disguised so she wouldn’t be hurt… even so she was shot…. But she survived!” Judy gasped and Jacob leaned close to her and touched her cheek.

“You look like her. So pretty!” He sighed once again as tears began to well up in everyone’s eyes, including Ben’s.

“She wandered away and was lost. For eight days with a wound. When she was found, the wound had not healed, but she was still alive… Elter-Bubbe Denuda found her and saved her. But she wasn’t able to have children. She… “ Jacob bit his lip.

“She and Elter-Zeyteh Aaron adopted you?” David remarked; ever the attentive one to detail, he continued.

“She met him …they knew each other from before the Ghetto. He was a rich and she was poor and their parents would never approve and she found him and fell in love all over again and got married, right?”

“That’s very good, David.”

“And they fought against the Germans until the war ended and then they adopted you and Aunt Judith and moved to Poughkeepsie and they raised you and you got married to Bubbe Miriam and then Daddy and Aunt Deborah came along? Daddy was named for Elter-Zaydeh Aaron since he had died, right?” Judy smiled. Her great aunt Judith died years before she was born.

“Eleven years old and such a memory!” Yes, that’s right.”

“His faithfulness! Right? What does it say about His steadfast love?" Naomi called from the kitchen doorway.

“His mercies never come to an end…Great is His faithfulness!”

The words were familiar, but they came from an unfamiliar source. Ben looked at his grandfather and smiled. The old man looked back and winked at him; an exchange that only the two of them could appreciate. Because of something the boy had learned and treasured...

Some months before at Zaydeh Jacob's home...

"That's almost all of it, Zaydeh Jacob," Ben said as he walked into the house. His grandfather looked around at the empty living room and sighed. He and Miriam had raised two children and helped with four grandchildren as well. His friends had begged him to move to Florida to a retirement community, but he was still active; both with his painting and with his grandchildren, so he bought condo in town; close enough to visit but far enough away to remember to call, he would remind himself.

"I'm giving that secretary to your mother; would you take the papers and put them in that file box over there?" He pointed in the corner to the tall desk and hutch.

"I gotta go take a leak, Benny. You and your dad can handle that, right?" He pointed again to the corner and nodded once before walking down the hall.

Ben began removing the papers and placing them into the box. As he emptied the last drawer a piece of paper fell out. It was old and wrinkled and yellow, but it was folded; hiding whatever had been written. Ben noticed the ink had stained thru the paper and he could make out a few hand-written words at the top. He opened it up; it was a letter...a letter from his great-grandmother Esther to his grandfather. He went to close it and add it to the papers in the box, but something urged him to read; almost as if the letter was mean for him.

He walked slowly to the hallway and stood. He could hear his grandfather singing, so he opened the letter once again and began to read.

My Dear Jacob…

I am sorry that you read this, since it is given to you upon the event of my passing. You and your sister Judith are my heart after my dear Aaron, may his name be written in the book of Life. I am more sorry since I never told you everything about me and your father. Please forgive me? But now I must say what needs to be said. It is up to you to forgive or not, dear son.

When I was little…about ten, I met a boy. His name was Aaron Blumenfeld. Yes. Your father Aaron. He was a very good boy who was kind to everybody. When I was teased by other children, he stuck up for me and protected me. You know like the stories you and Judith love to read about knights and damsels and dragons? He was a knight, and maybe just a little, the other children were like dragons. He and his family moved away, and I thought I’d never see him again.

Well...years later my mother and I ended up in Warsaw...and then what should have been a home became a ghetto. It was around Passover of all times. After the Germans broke through the wall and started the killing, my mother was afraid for me. I was only fifteen and she feared for my life. Somehow Uncle Herschel was able to sneak me out…it was almost a whirlwind running through attics and then on rooftops and somehow out of the city. But as I ran away I was shot. Bubbe Danuda…She found me and nursed me to health.

Months later, men came to the farm. They were Russian …only a few… most of their men had been killed, but a handful survived. They just wanted some food and did not hurt us. And I saw him. Your father was with them. I prayed by all that was holy that he would not remember me, but he saw me and he did. Please forgive me, my sweet boy? I love you and I would do nothing to hurt you if I could, but this may hurt you more than anything….

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December 1944, somewhere between Lublin and the Russian Border…

Snow had at least departed for the time being, leaving behind mud and muck but also an unseasonable warmth and welcome comfort. Esther would have grown tired of the chores at one time, but now most every day brought joy and gratitude to G_d. And some days wavered between faith and shame. She looked down at her frail body; almost doll-like since she was small, even for a girl. Even for a girl….

She breathed in the mixture of fresh air with only a whiff of the pasture outside and smiled. Somehow things were exactly as they should have been, she noted, as she raked the floor of the small barn. Her voice was pleasant as she sang a song her mother taught her…. a song she recalled almost made no sense, at least for her.

A malke vi a lalke,
mit kleyne printselekh
mit yontefdike kleydelekh

A queen like a doll,
with her little princesses
in their holyday finery

She laughed as the nanny goat began to bleat happily at her singing. She never thought she had a good voice, and now that things had changed, her singing had become almost pleasant to her own ears, despite the journey she was forced to take to bring her to the chorus she shared with the cows and goats and the one ewe lamb that Mama Walesa owned.

She blushed as she remembered the shameful implication of the words meant for her alone, but even at that, the song was not quite fitting for the season and she began again with a new tune.

(Oy), Chanukah oy Chanukah
A yontif a sheyner,
A lustiker a freylekher
Nisht do nokh azoyner
Ale nakht mit dreydlech shpiln mir,
Frishe heyse latkes, esn on a shir

(Oh), Chanukah, Oh Chanukah
A beautiful celebration.
Such a cheerful and happy one,
There is none like it.
Every night with the dreidels we will play,
Fresh, hot latkes we will eat endlessly.

A few minutes later her work was done for the morning and she walked out of the barn and down the small hill to the house. She rounded a small bluff and saw that four men stood next to the short fence in front of the cottage. They wore rough-looking grins and dirty uniforms; Russian by the looks of them.

She cringed. Too many years of war already in her young life had made her both cautious and confused. And her life was not safe if the secret she shared with Mamma Walesa would be discovered. She continued to walk slowly down the hill, still absentmindedly singing.

Geshvinder, tsindt kinder
Di Chanukah likhtlech on,
Zogt "Al Hanisim", loybt Got far di nisim,
Un lomir ale tantsen in kon.
Zogt "Al Hanisim", loybt Got far di nisim,
Un lomir ale tantsen in kon.

Come quickly children
Light the Chanukah candles
Say "Al Hanissim", praise God for the miracles,
And we will all dance together in a circle!

The song heartened her as she recalled her own miracle. She stopped and tried not to stare at the strange men talking with Mama Walesa. They, on the other hand, had no problem staring at her.

“Ah, Mamma? A pretty girl? Your daughter,“ one of the soldiers teased. Esther shuddered at his words; fearing that no one was safe, no matter which side they were on, since soldiers from Russia and soldiers from Germany were no friends of the Poles, and even less for a girl like her.

She cringed and went to back up, but bumped into a short hedge and stumbled. She would have fallen to the ground but strong hands caught her and kept her from harm. She looked up into the man’s eyes and saw only peace and gentle care. But she pulled away quickly and ran into the cottage past the startled soldiers and Mama Walesa. She closed the door behind her and gasped. The man who kept her from falling was no stranger, and she feared that he would reveal the secret she kept to the peril of her own life.

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A short while later....

Esther could hear the talking from inside the cottage and she breathed a sigh of relief after listening to them; they showed unusual respect for the older woman.

“Yes,” Mama Walesa said softly. “You are kind. I can see it in your eyes.” She stared at the young man who had rescued Esther from falling. She had worried when the other men had joked in a somewhat course manner, but the younger man glared at them, they quickly apologized. Two of them were Russian and the man in charge seemed to be a Pole, but Esther knew the young man was Jewish… from before Warsaw. She sighed as she recalled their last meeting...

Lodz, Poland, 1937

“Never mind them,” the boy said.

“They’re only afraid of what will happen, and picking on you makes them feel better about themselves and the way things will go.” He used his arm in a broad sweep as a reminder of how life already become for them.

“If you go…” the voice was weak and fearful; the body slight and almost gangly; perhaps only a little from dearth of food but more from how G_d had designed?

“I pray ….but I must go anyway.” His family insisted, and he sighed in frustration.

I fear for the future, they had said. Life had been a forbidden gamble for both of them. He looked away, almost as if he had already departed.

“I’m sorry,” the young man spoke quietly. Forbidden love in the midst of hatred for them already making things doubly impossible; maybe exponentially unapproachable. He stepped closer and kissed the face that beamed from love and admiration and pride over him. Aaron didn’t want to go for so many reasons even as duty and life called from beyond the moment. Aaron Blumenfeld and his family were leaving, perhaps forever, and it was sad…..

Esther’s thought were interrupted as Mama Walesa entered the cottage. She placed her hand on Esther’s back.

"Esther? We have company. These nice men are joining us for dinner. They will be staying in the barn tonight. Would you get some blankets for them?” Mama Walesa put her hand on the girl’s shoulder in encouragement.

“Do not worry. I believe everything will be fine.” An easy thing to say in the midst of dangerous risk, but Danuda Walesa displayed a calm that Esther had only beheld once before when she came to live with the old woman the few years before.

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In the barn, a few minutes later...

“You can use the clean straw over here for tonight.” She spoke almost in a whisper with her head down, praying with all that was holy that the young man would not recognize her. A moment later she felt a gentle touch as her chin was raised.

“It is good to see you alive,” he said with a big smile. She shook his grasp off her chin; wanting to flee. Mama Walesa had done what she could to help, but even the best surgeons could not have done anything to change what horrific wounds to body and soul had wrought. She began to cry, hoping that the other soldiers would not discover what the young man already knew, and that the young man would just go away.

“Don’t be scared, little one. I am the same Aaron Blumenfeld who knew you then, no matter who or what you may be now. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we parted those many years ago.” His departure had been hard enough, but then Warsaw. He was gone and she was alone and scared after ending up on a different path. Those big kind eyes that gave her strength when she was small and weak and helpless now made her feel strong and alive.

Aaron smiled; his strength seemed to push Esther’s nervousness aside. She looked down anyway; still ashamed of her voyage from the person she had been in the past. He looked around and then stepped to the door of the barn. His comrades were nowhere to be seen; likely helping out Mama Walesa with dinner or at least standing at the doorway of the cottage in anticipation. He walked back and pulled Esther into a hug.

“I’m….I’m so sorry, Aaron. I….” She buried her face in his chest; still much shorter than him in so many ways. He gathered her close and hugged her.

“Nothing to be sorry about, myyn lieb.” He kissed her forehead.

“But….I am….I cannot….I am so sorry,” she plead. Esther Walesa had come full circle even if she felt unworthy of the trip. Asher Bucholz died in a field outside Warsaw two years before in a way, only to be resurrected as Esther Walesa. A gift of G_d and a blessing both to her and to the young man who had never stopped loving her.

“No one….ever….just you and me, myyn tyya’r.” A secret that life would never betray. He kissed her on the cheek.

“Will you….now that we are free, myyn lieb? Will you be mine?” His eyes had filled with tears and he looked away; his time of nervous fear. Nothing in life is a guarantee but for the grace of the Almighty. She touched his lips with her fingers. She pulled his face close, kissing him gently on the cheek.

“Yes….If….if you’ll have me.” He didn’t wait to speak but kissed her and held her tight. Of course, he would have her and she have him, even if life had arranged a very circuitous journey to bring them together.

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And so, on the 18th Day of December in 1944 – the second day of Tevet and the last day of Chanukah, Esther Bucholz Walesa was united with Aaron Blumenfeld in the witness of the Almighty and Mamma Danuda Walesa and Senior Sergeant Arkady Garanin and Private Dimitri Borodin and Junior Sergeant Anatol Krupka as well as two cows, two goats, and one ewe lamb....

“I never stopped loving you,” he said as he pulled her closer. The romance was quickly set aside as Aaron leaned in and placed her left hand on the wooden stock supporting the barrel of the AVT-40.

“I love you so much,” Esther said in return as she pulled the trigger, firing the weapon for the first and only time without haste or peril, as the next time would not be at a tree but at the enemy. And while things were very anxious and challenging, the difficulties they had known growing up had steeled them to the world they still faced and brought them closer. And even as life swirled and tossed and turned them around, they did finally live happily ever after.

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At Jacob's Townhome...

Ben stared at the letter and continued to read.

“It is good to see you alive!” He said to me as if we had never parted. As if there was nothing between us. But there was. At least I thought so. Mama Walesa had done what she could to help me, but the damage was too much to fix. The person he knew when we were children had ceased to exist.

“Don’t be scared, little one. I am the same Aaron Blumenfeld who knew you then, no matter who or what you may be now. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we parted those many years ago.” He told me as he held my hand. I wasn’t the same child he knew, but it didn’t matter.

“Don’t be scared,” he said to me. Those big kind eyes that gave me strength when I was small and weak and helpless still made me feel strong and alive. Dear Jacob… Please forgive me! I cannot help how you feel, and I know you have every right to hate me. Your father loved me when I was little. He was fourteen; Aaron Blumenfeld, son of a business man. And I was ten; Asher Bucholz, son of a farmer. It was forbidden from every direction, and never to be. But G_d in his mercy made other arrangements.

Momma Walesa did what she could, and what she did was just the right thing. Asher Bucholz had become Esther Walesa and Esther Walesa, thank G_d, became Esther Blumenfeld. I know you have every right to be angry and hate me, but please find it in your heart to forgive me. I love you and your sister more than my own life. I pray you still love me.

Momma

Ben looked at the paper and noticed that the writing had been blurred a bit in spots on the letter. He realized even as tears came to his own eyes that the blurs must have been caused by Jacob's tears. But what had the letter wrought? Were they angry tears? Sad tears? The question was answered when he heard a footfall from behind and a soft laugh.

"She was something, Momma was." He said it almost flatly and Ben didn't get any sense of what his grandfather felt until the old man placed his hand softly on the boy's shoulder.

"It didn't matter," he said as he choked back a sob. Shaking his head, he took the letter from the boy and stared at it as well.

"If I had been given a million dollars it still would never be worth as much as one kiss from her. I wish she had known that it was okay. It's so hard to go through life pretending, you know, Benjamin?" The old man kneaded the boy's shoulder.

"Your own Momma told me something that you need help with, Benny. Maybe your old Zaydeh can help you, yes?" The boy looked into his grandfather's eyes and saw something that he longed for; something that the old man offered freely...faith.

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At the Bielecki's...the present...

"And so, on the 18th Day of December in 1944 – the second day of Tevet and the last day of Chanukah, your Bubbe Esther and Zaydeh Aaron married. A miracle of Chanukah, and still a miracle today, danken Gott!" Rachel and David looked at each other and stood from the floor and quickly hugged Jacob. Judy clapped her hands and began to cry, but they were lovely, happy tears. Naomi put her hand to her mouth and began to shake, and even Aaron...his grandfather's namesake, was weeping. Ben stood in the corner and sighed. Naomi walked over to her father-in-law and gave him a quick hug before speaking.

"Poppa? It's their anniversary! That was the most beautiful story I have ever heard." She struggled to compose herself but she continued to cry. The old man hugged her and whispered in her ear.

"It's time, kinderlekh." He laughed, even as his own tears stained his gray corduroy shirt. Naomi's eyes widened anxiously but the old man's smile diffused her fear.

"David? Rachel? Judy?" He called clearly. The three quickly walked up to him; almost reporting for duty.

"Would you three go to my car? Here are the keys." He made a point of handing them to Judy in confidence even if it was a small task.

"There are some packages in the trunk for you and your Momma and Poppa, okay? And there's some Ginger Ale and some seltzer on the front seat. Bring everything in and give me and your Momma and Poppa and Benny some time, okay?" The three nodded and were out the door.

Naomi walked over to her husband and grabbed his arm affectionately. He smiled and she kissed his cheek.

"Aaron? Would you come with me? I have something to tell you, alright?" She rubbed his arm and he tilted his head; puzzled. She looked into his eyes and he noticed they were still tearful.

"We need to talk, okay?" She pointed to Jacob; he and Ben were standing by the armchair in the corner. He nodded but the look on his face indicated both that he had no clue and that he was almost afraid of what that clue might be. They walked into the kitchen, leaving the Jacob and Benjamin alone.

"It's time, okay?" Jacob touched his grandchild's arm and smiled. The boy nodded nervously and began to cry.

"It's going to be okay. I promise." Jacob said and took Ben by the hand, patting it softly.

"So? What say we go in the kitchen and have some nice brisket and maybe your parents can meet you for the first time, okay?" The boy nodded again and the old man winked and laughed.

"Okay, so do you prefer Deborah or will Debbie be alright?"

Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this:

The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease.

Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.

I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!”
Lamentations 3:21 - 24

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Katz's Kosher Deli, Peekskill, New York, a few years later…

Debbie leaned against the car and sighed. The rain had let up only slightly, but it promised to return, judging by the lingering clouds overhead. It had already been a long morning, and she was very tired. Things never go the way we plan, as the old saying goes, and her own car had been in the shop for almost a week with no repair on the horizon. Once the family returned home, she had every intention of visiting Zaydeh Jacob before heading back to school, but with the car situation, it would probably mean a bus ride and back to get the car in time for the holiday,

“It’s so warm for December…this late. I wish Zaydeh Jacob had been with us for Thanksgiving.” Naomi said as she walked to the car; Debbie’s sisters and brother had plans they couldn’t break, so it was a day out just with her parents.

“With that headache you’ve got, I think maybe I should be driving, Dad,” Debbie said. Aaron nodded with a slight wince and got into the back of the car.

“I don’t think he’ll give you any arguments, honey,” Naomi said with a sympathetic frown. Aaron smiled weakly before settling back in the back seat; a plastic baggy filled with ice from the Deli crowned his head.

“I think today…we’ll go visit Zaydeh Jacob on the way home, okay?” Naomi said as she looked into the mirror on her sun visor. Aaron would have preferred heading straight home first, but between being outvoted and it being his father they were visiting?

The drive was not too far out of the way, and it was such a lovely day; even with the unseasonal shower, it still was a time of remembrance and reflection of the beauty of creation and the provision of G_d, so what better way to be thankful than to express love and appreciation for the head of the family.

“What about the bus? I need to be back by four or so, Mom.” She was hoping for a late visit followed by one or the other of her very indulgent parents to drive her the sixty-some-odd miles back to Waterbury. Her mother looked over her and smiled.

“You worry too much, oh light of my life. Let’s just see how things work out for the moment.” Debbie nodded and smiled back before starting the car; they were off an instant later.

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In a short while...

“You missed a nice service, Pop.” Aaron smiled down at his father. It had been a very nice week, and all of the family had felt so much closer for it all. Naomi gripped his hand and squeezed. Debbie stepped closer; perhaps the most thankful member of the family; owing so much gratitude to the Creator of the Universe and to the almost small but tender-hearted man who had blessed her not so many years ago. She smiled and spoke.

“I’m probably going to be on the Dean’s List again, Zaydeh Jacob. And soon? Maybe a doctor in the family?” She laughed softly at the thought of being a psychologist.

“A regular Anna Freud,” he would say. “More like a Carla Rogers,” she had teased back. She looked away, as if for some guidance as to what to say next.

“I wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for you, Zaydeh. I love you so much, and I am so thankful you are my grandfather.” Her lip began to quiver and tears began to fall from her face. She took another breath and spoke.

“I hope this will make your day shine, Zaydeh.” She put her head down slightly and closed her eyes; a simple recitation, but a favorite of his, and long forgotten until she recalled it enough to memorize it once again.

“I hope my pronunciation is okay?

chas dei ha shem ki lo-ta me nu ki lo-cha lu ra cha-mav. cha da shim lab be ka rim rab bah e mu na te cha. Chel ki ha shem a me rah naf shi al-ken o v chil lov.s….

Naomi stepped close and spoke along with her daugther while Aaron mouthed the words silently.

to vv ha shem le ko va vk le ne fesh tid re shen nu. to vv ve ya chil ve du mam lit shu 'at ha shem.

(Loosely translated,

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord. Lamentations 3:22-26

Short but powerfully moving words that reflected the deep gratitude and faith the girl had; instilled in her by her grandfather. A man who believed in G_d and family and believed in his granddaughter before anyone else in the family knew her.

Born Benjamin Reuben Bielecki; now Deborah Leah Blumenfeld as she had taken the original family name at her rebirth. She put her hand to her face; the weeping was not bitter and the tears came like drops of rain from heaven as they fell upon the grave of Jacob Benjamin Blumenfeld. Her father’s strong arms pulled her close as she gave into the sad but hopeful grief and wept without sound. Naomi stepped close to the grave and spoke in a near whisper.

“Rachel and David and Judy had to work, Abba…they’ll be by tomorrow after school, okay?” She could see his smile as she closed her eyes; offering up her own silent prayer before grabbing Debbie’s hand as they walked back down the hill to the car.

To be continued in Book Two: Home for Chanukah

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