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Family Story

Chava Dumas

Pesach was quickly approaching, and I was experiencing “postpartum” blues. My “baby” was now six years old, and it was apparent that he was indeed the last child with whom Hashem would bless us. This meant the end of an era in my life. I was therefore feeling rather mournful as I went downtown, armed with a long list of errands. Though I tried to shake it, I continued to feel negative, rather than having immense gratitude for having been granted children at all!

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

As I wound my way past a small jewelry store, my eye spotted a gold pendant in the window. The design immediately reminded me of a sentimental piece that had once been stolen from me. I stopped to stare at it. At the time of our burglary, we scarcely had anything of value. Yet the one item taken — the sole inheritance from my grandmother, a”h — had represented  a large  emotional loss. I had always imagined myself wearing her golden Chai when I myself would, b’ezras Hashem, be a bubby.

            My spirits were immediately lifted at the thought of buying this familiar-looking piece, and I excitedly entered the store, the clouds of depression already beginning to dissipate.

 

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