My husband created a beautiful medallion and Hashem directed me to a wonderful and charitable Yemenite Jew who was a jeweler. He volunteered to fashion 1,000 silver medallions to be distributed to injured soldiers in Israel.
During my visit to Israel after the Yom Kippur War, the head nurse of a hospital asked if I would visit a young man in the ICU. He had been badly burned in a tank in the Golan. It was difficult to look at him, he was so horrifically injured. I went to his bedside and told him I had a gift of appreciation from the Jewish people for his awesome sacrifice on behalf of our land and our nation.
I placed the medallion on the night table at his bedside.
“Take it back,” he said despondently.
“No,” I responded, “I’m not taking it back. I’m leaving it here because one day you will meet a girl and you’ll give it to her as an engagement gift.”
He broke down and wept. “Don’t play games with me, Rebbetzin. No one will want to marry me. I’m not a man anymore.”
“You are right,” I said, “you are not a man, you are a malach Hashem – an angel of G-d.”
“Let’s not get sarcastic,” he replied.
“No, I mean it,” I answered. “Do you know why you are a malach Hashem? Because it is written that when Hashem promised the land to Avraham Avinu as an eternal inheritance, Avraham asked, ‘How do I know?’
“Our immediate reaction upon reading something like this is one of profound surprise. How could this be? How could Avraham, the very paragon of faith, question G-d?
“According to our sages, Avraham never doubted Hashem’s Promise. What he was asking for was a guarantee that even if his descendants would forget and abandon the covenant, the land would still belong to them in perpetuity. In short, he was pleading for an unconditional promise that the land would forever be the heritage and inheritance of the Jewish people.
“The answer G-d gave was karbonos – sacrifices.”
At that point I looked directly into the soldier’s eyes and said, “You made the ultimate sacrifice. You are indeed an angel of G-d. So I’m leaving this medallion here with you and one day when you find that girl you will give it to her. You will tell her what I said. You will promise to share with her your portion in the world to come. And this medallion is symbolic of that.”
And with those words I left.
A year later I returned to Eretz Yisrael and my first program was at a rehabilitation center for wounded soldiers. Following my talk a young man was wheeled up to the stage to present me with flowers.
“Do you recognize me, Rebbetzin?” he asked. He pointed to a sweet young girl who was behind his wheelchair. “Meet my bride,” he said with a big grin.
I looked at her and saw the medallion – the Hineni medallion. I couldn’t believe it. I took a deep breath and thanked Hashem.
Fast forward to our visit to Israel after the Har Nof massacre. We were in Yoni’s room and my assistant was reminding me of the story of the soldier from the Yom Kippur War as she handed me a Hineni medallion. I gave it to Yoni with a berachah and asked that he invite me to his wedding.
We recently received an e-mail from the rabbi who made the original contact for us. “Baruch Hashem,” he wrote, “our Yoni is out of the coma!” And a few days later we received photographs of Yoni at his seudas hadoah, the meal of thanksgiving that all who are saved from danger must offer to Hashem.