Part II
Synopsis: The author describes the event of her birth. Her
mother traveled to give birth in Tashkent, where there was a
hospital, also to be near her own mother, who would care for
the older sister. After the birth, the older child developed
a very high fever, and the mother left the hospital with her
infant, against the rules, and returned home. The three of
them were in the grandmother's house when a terrible
earthquake took place . . . In the blink of an eye, 100,000
people were left homeless . . .
With maternal instinct, my mother grabbed my sister in her
arms and ran. In the confusion of the panic, cries for help
and terrifying moments not knowing what would happen, they
forgot about a helpless eight-day old baby neglected under
the fireplace on the balcony. My uncle David was my savior.
In spite of the confusion, he screamed to my mother, "Where's
your baby?" and everyone screamed after him, "Oy! Where's the
baby?"
My weak mother collapsed in fear. Everyone knew it was
impossible to save me. No one would approach a house whose
walls were shaking and would, any moment, lay in ruins. But
Hashem's will was otherwise. My uncle David steeled himself
and with incredible alacrity and unparalleled
resourcefulness, supported himself with the trembling walls
and entered the balcony.
The moment he stretched out his hands under the fireplace to
pull me out, the fireplace fell on his head. He was injured
and bleeding and moved unsteadily but delivered me alive and
well to my mother's arms. A second later, the house collapsed
in a pile of debris. Afterwards, we discovered that because
the balcony was close to the outside, it had saved me. My
uncle had enough time to get outside and save us both.
As a result of this incredibly powerful earthquake, most of
Tashkent was destroyed. Bridges collapsed, buildings toppled,
thousands of people were killed and hundreds of thousands
went missing under the rubble. No survivors remained from the
hospital. Thousands of newborn babies, and the staff that
tended them, were crushed to death.
The terrible earthquake made headlines the world-over and
humanitarian efforts were rushed in from the four corners of
the world.
With the loss of life and property, there was also a loss of
paperwork. Many days passed until the manpower could be
assembled to produce the required documents for the refugees
of Tashkent. When my mother was asked for details about me,
she remarked that I had been born three days prior to my real
date of birth so that no one would be suspicious or ask
questions as to how an eight-day old baby was the only
survivor of the hospital which became a symbol of national
tragedy. To this day my ID has the wrong birthday and I
explain apologetically that this was unavoidable under the
circumstances.
Divine Providence continued to accompany my mother. When I
was four years old, she submitted a request with her parents
and brothers to make aliyah to Eretz Yisrael. They saw this
as a privilege and longed to kiss the holy ground. In those
years, Uzbekistan was under Soviet control and its gates were
closed to those who wanted to leave or enter its borders.
Only a few were permitted to exit. Even those who received
permission had to deal with endless bureaucracy and
harassment by government clerks. The Uzbekistan government
always required its citizens to be preprogrammed and obedient
and placed them at the center of its suffocating attentions.
In spite of it all, my mother's family strove to acquire exit
visas.
Through a great deal of Divine Providence, only my mother
received permission to leave. With beating and emotional
hearts we left the life we knew, our homeland changing under
the conqueror, and emigrated to Israel. My mother's brother
and her parents were able to leave only in 1991, with the
declaration of independence of Uzbekistan and the fall of the
Communist regime. They settled in Queens where there is a
large Bokharan community and didn't merit to come to Israel.
If I hadn't been with my mother and merited to immigrate to
Israel many years previously, it is very doubtful whether my
eyes would have been opened to the true light of the
Torah.
During all the years of my childhood, my mother never told me
about the miracle of how my wonderful life had been saved.
Perhaps she was afraid that I would be bitter over the fact
that they had abandoned me, a helpless baby in such a
dangerous state. It is probable that she found it difficult
to relive the trauma and perhaps, with the passing years, the
power of the miracle dulled in her eyes.
When I was 26 years old, my uncle David (my savior) came to
Israel. He wanted to see how the baby whom he had saved from
between the trembling walls had grown. On the way to the
Kotel, where my mother and I were accompanying him, he began
to relate the story of my life; he emphasized again and again
that my life had been given to me as a gift, while indicating
the scar on his skull.
My first reaction was complete shock. It seems that Uncle
David, who was driving, also wasn't concentrating enough. For
some reason, he slowed down the vehicle and a large
commercial vehicle collided with us from behind. My mother
was sitting beside her brother in the front seat and nothing
happened to them. But I was sitting in the back and was
crushed as the car folded in like a pita. The glass was
shattered and the body of the Subaru became
unrecognizable.
"My daughter's killed!" my mother shrieked like a bereaved
mother from outside the car. I heard her screaming but it was
difficult for me to respond in order to comfort her. Only
when the rescuers came, did they release me from the wreck
with broken bones in my arms and legs, cuts and bruises, but
still breathing! My mother leaned over me and the first
sentence she said was, "Know that your life has been given to
you for the second time as a gift!" This sentence, uttered
from a storm of emotions, shook me up and led me to a state
of deep introspection.
During my recovery, I introduced myself to a chareidi mother
of 17 who was taking care of one of her children who shared
my room. The heretofore unknown world that was revealed to
me, enchanted me. The tranquility, the belief in an all-
powerful G-d, the acceptance that everything is from Above,
the prayers, the hope, the way the members of the family
treated each other, the sincere interest in others, the
compromise and sharing of the burden, everything was
interwoven with real Jewish charm. This was all new to me,
lofty values that I had not previously known.
The mother of the family, a pleasant and warm woman, left me
her details when her daughter was released and invited me to
her home for a Shabbos meal after I recovered. In time, I
became one of the family and gradually, my personality
developed a pure and sincere hue. When my mother heard of my
return to Judaism, she made a powerful statement, "Hashem
protected you because He wanted you to come closer to Him and
be His."
The stages in becoming a baalas teshuva were quick and
decisive. I had a supportive "family", an explanation of
every step on my path towards my Torah-true life, and nonstop
encouragement. A year and a half later, I married and I went
to live up North in a settlement close to my husband's
chareidi family. In the settlement, I took upon myself the
obligation to attract families who were far from Judaism and
thirsty for a drop of the life of truth.
The message I want to transmit to women is, in fact, the
summary of my life: I think that everyone has her own
personal miracle. The question is whether she looks at what
happens through glasses of faith, if she searches every day
for the miracle. Everyone receives Divine Providence each
moment. Does s/he know how to look closely at how much
kindness and mercy Hashem showers upon us, His creations,
every day?
Everyone has something that has happened to him. If people
would accustom themselves to look at Hashem's miracles every
day, it would be easier for them and they wouldn't complain.
You don't have to wait for such a big miracle, a double
miracle, such as I experienced. Know that even the small
miracles are from Him, Above. Today, I often tell the story
of my life and see it as my mission to strengthen the faith
and increase attention to Divine Providence in the world.
"I shall not die, but will live . . . and tell."
