Dear Mrs. Bluth,
Many years ago, when I was fourteen and a half and going to Catholic school (I was not born Jewish and converted many years later), I became pregnant. The nuns and my parents decided to send me out of the country to have the baby, as my family was well known and influential and it was a black mark on my father’s chances for a high position in the political arena. I was sent to Switzerland, to a sister convent, for the remainder of my gestational period, as abortion was not a consideration. I never got to see my baby, nor did I want to and it was immediately put up for adoption. A week later I returned home to a family who scorned me for the shame I had brought them and when I turned eighteen, I left and went to live with an aunt in Australia.
My aunt was aware of what had happened and living with her and her family was nearly as bad as living at home. I was constantly reminded of my sin and dragged to church every Sunday to pray for forgiveness. It was during this time that I started feeling like there was no god at all and stopped believing in anything. For the next four years, I pretended to be a good Catholic, but I felt nothing in my heart. I was filled with despair and resentment. No one wanted me, no one loved me and I had no baby to love and cling to for comfort. I had let them take him or her away and I was left with a large hole where god and forgiveness should have been.
At twenty-four I married a local farmer who took a liking to me, but that soon wore off and when he was drunk, which was a fair amount of the time, he beat me and called me every foul name. When, after three years of marriage, I didn’t bring forth a child to fully consecrate the marriage, he told everyone I was cursed and barren and he divorced me. I packed my bags and moved as far away as I could with the little money I had saved. On a cold winter day, I arrived in New York. As I stood there in the airport, all the tears I’d never shed came flowing down my cheeks. I felt so lost and abandoned, without hope, without faith and I didn’t care who saw.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked up into the kindest face I had seen in forever. This lady, holding a baby in her arms as her husband wheeled two large suitcases, asked me what was wrong and if she could be of help. I said I had nowhere to go. She said I was welcome to stay with her and her family until I could find my way. And that is how I came to stay with the Samson (name changed) family.
From the very first moment, I felt a keen sense of coming home. I know it sounds strange, but their kindness and willingness to help a total stranger was something I had never seen before. Also new to me was the religion they practiced and the rituals they kept, but I found a deep beauty in the way they lived and worshiped. Mrs. Samson, who was not that much older than I, said I could help her around the house and care for the children when she had to go out and that would be payment enough for my room and board. She never asked me about my life or what had brought me here, and we became friends.
I watched as she made the dough for the challahs for the Shabbat, how she blessed the loaves before putting them in the oven. I watched the beautiful glow on her face as she lit the candles and welcomed the Shabbat and marveled at the lovely table set for the meal with such serenity and peace. I yearned for what she had and was determined to learn the path to her happiness and to find the G-d that bestowed it.
Over time I asked her questions and as she explained and answered, I understood that I had found my place and my faith. For the next four years in the Samson home, I became sure that I wanted to convert to Judaism and began my studies with their rabbi and for another two years, studied towards that goal. The more I learned, the more I embraced the beauty and love that espoused our faith and I knew that some destiny had guided me here, to these people and this house wherein I would find a loving G-d and a wellspring of beauty.
Long story short, Mrs. Samson decided to be a matchmaker for me just as soon as I had completed my conversion and, although I never told her about the child I birthed and gave away, I did tell her I had been married before and that because I was barren, I was given a divorce. With her help, I started dating and one particular gentleman found favor with me and I with him. We were both in our late thirties and I dreaded telling him that I could not have children but knew that I had to. On one of our last dates, I broke down and told him that I was barren and could not give him a child. He looked at me with his gentle brown eyes and said that our matriarch, Sarah, and Channah, the mother of the Prophet Shmuel, were also barren as were a number of other saintly Jewish women in our history, however, when they turned to Hashem and wept as they prayed to the Almighty to bless them with a child, their prayers were answered. Then he asked me to marry him.
From the first night we were husband and wife, we both prayed together for that blessing. We went to rabbis for their blessings as well and, at the age of forty-one Hashem sent us a beautiful set of twins. Needless to say the joy that surrounded us was boundless and the Samson’s and all the adopted extended family that is our community has encircled us with loving kindness. To say that my life is complete is an understatement; it has only just recently begun. Whatever came before is a blur that was once a wound and now fully healed, and I am thankful every moment for my faith and my people.
That is the reason for this letter, to show what one small, simple act of kindness has brought into being and what great miracles can come from a loving heart and faith so strong it broke through the gates of Heaven.
Dear Friend,
Wow. It took me a full fifteen minutes to digest your letter, please forgive me for editing it down so that it would fit into the column. What an extraordinary story. I can only convey to the readers how much you have gone through in your journey and the bitter hardships you had to endure. I rejoice at the wonderful life you have and wish you a long lifetime of nachas, good health and happiness together with your husband and precious children.
To the Samson’s and all those like them, who open up their hearts and their homes to those in need, who give generously of their time, there is a special place in Gan Eden for you and yours after 120 years. Tizku l’mitzvos and may you be a shining example of what we all need to aspire to.