I held my breath: “My son, where are you?” I thought. “Are you still alive? Are you still here in the world of the living? A world for impact, giving, and elevating?” I sighed, but not from relief but a feeling of pure pain. For now, I must have true bitachon that it was not his time to depart from the world of the living. My head reaches for what’s comfortable in worry and hardship. One word: Tanya, this was the only thing that could relax me. “Don’t worry,” I told myself.

There it was, a century of giving, open doors for everyone. Seven Seventy’s doors were shattered and destroyed. It was a terrorist’s selfish moment, an ancient way of hate, a terrorist attack in its most impure way: the head of the snake. Thoughts rush through my head, combing over and analyzing the horrific crash that threw us, the community, from one end of the world to the other, without any real fathoming at all.

Ask any Chossid, the Rebbe’s army, what we felt when the car slammed into Seven Seventy; the foundation of the wellsprings of Chassidus, the planting of seeds that each person mattered, “To love your fellow as yourself.” The flow in the beat to the music, the cherishing, a moment in time, a brotherhood so dear, a distinguished people, and then sometimes, there are those who are not of our Torah values, who are raised by hate, and when joy is spread, enthusiasm, connecting, uplifting in the darkness, a snake can intervene in different forms, but still only a trace, a hint from the original sin of the Tree of Knowledge.

Is it the Tale bearers of Truth who make good people? Who decides the circumstances? Is it our reaction to troubles

that Mother Nature prides herself in? But, in truth, digging deeper, it’s G-d who is peaking from behind the veil. At times, it becomes a wrestling match with angels over who will win and who will lose.

Tonight is the night, my son told me, elated and excited. What he truly meant is that “It’s going to be the night of my life.” In Chassidic circles, this night is for one to be inspired and spend time in the Rebbe’s house. It is for each one to farbreng all night, or in my son’s lingo, to farbreng the night away!

Flights, flights, flights, missing them again, what will we do? My sweet prince went to New York, having a blast with his friends and brothers, making his way for another beautiful night, but he knew it was the end of the trip for him, or so he thought, and he had planned to go home, and would miss “the night of his life.” Traffic stalled, and then it stopped all plans. I paced back and forth. The missed flight had passed, and the next flight was to Chicago, but it would land at midnight, which was not an option for me; safety first. The hunt was on to find just one more spot for my teenage Chassidic son, but where? The city was alert, happening, but crowded. Where could he sleep?

Alas, it was found brother helping brother, and my son found his place amongst the crowd, a crowd that came to be inspired, a crowd that thirsts for elevation, rabbis farbenging until the wee hours of the morning -the place to be. A marked day, the new mantle and torch were passed, from the Fredikar Rebbe to our Rebbe, and with one lantern slowly fading but having never truly left, center stage is where the new light took its turn to dance and shine brightly, as if the last ember of the first had knowingly left its imprint, impact, fire to place and nourish to hold.

Elevated, he was ecstatic on his way home, but the flight from cars calling each other of their own symphony, the traffic had created this paradigm shift. A moment changed, plans broken, now what? My son, where will he fly to? Who can pick him up? Two decisions and a true bachur’s souly request, “Please, my personal request, let me stay for the real farbrengen.” I understood, a teenage Chassidic boy’s dream, the yearning of his soul to connect to his Rebbe, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the mashpiyim, the influential Rabbis, and skilled and masterful farbrengeners, an extra uber money put down, expensive but worth it!

They Smashed the Rebbe’s House

Tonight is the night my son told me, so he squeezed with his brother in a room filled with bachrim just as determined as ever to climb higher with the infused, electric farbrengeners, who tap into their souls, take a teenage boy and make one into a true mentch, and if lucky elevate him to a Chassidishe bachur in the weighing of each quality that symbolizes the 10 powers of the human being, the 7 character traits of man. Can one ask, what does a skilled Chassidic rabbi do? He takes a bachur and helps him with his tools, polishing them to their greatest heights. Seventy Tehillim, Psalms, said to make his flight; 70 for my son to have it easier. That seventy wasn’t wasted. I watched, hoping to see where it would go. Would I ever know?

My son felt alive! This was incredible, he called to tell me all was good and that he arrived. I got in the car after a long day, but then a missed call and another a minute apart. I couldn’t answer, and then a message that halted me with four words that crashed my heart and stopped me: “Mommy, I almost died!”

I tried calling back. No response. Silence again and again. What happened? What went wrong? I thought maybe, being a Wisconsinite and going to New York, he wasn’t watching the streets. I called his big brother to hear his usually very humorous, playful voice and a relaxed energy; instead, his voice went to extreme worry and fright, and finally to a pleading cry: “Mommmy, I hope he is alive! Mommy, something terrible happened in 770, and I think, Chas V’Shalom, that he got terribly hurt. He isn’t answering his phone. I’m terrified. I’m rushing over there now,” he said, panting half from pacing and half from all the air seeming to leave the room. What will be? It took a long moment for me to register that something happened to the Rebbe’s house, Chabad headquarters, a home for all, the edifice, the foundational concept that all Chabad houses are a home for everyone. The Rebbe’s home was attacked by a terrorist and smashed, and on top of that, my son could be…

“Listen, please don’t! I don’t want you to put yourself in danger. Please be careful! Don’t go!”

It was the wrestling inside me of knowing that he could help his brother, being that he is 6’5”, but I couldn’t risk it. He was my son too, so I rejected that hopeful, fleeting thought.

“I have to, he’s my brother,” he complained heroically. “I’ll be careful. Please. I need to find him and see if he is okay!” my eldest told me with finality, showing maturity beyond his 18 years. My older son was putting himself in harm’s way, but it was for my traveling son. What if he was hurt badly? G-d Forbid! “Breathe,” I told myself. “Think positive! Think good, and it will be good, don’t let the Yetzer Hora, the evil inclination in, don’t let him torment you.” I told myself, “It’s not my plan, but G-d’s plan.”

My older son called again, trembling, he told me that they smashed the Rebbe’s house, that he couldn’t find his brother, and he thinks that he was near the car. “I’m going to keep looking. They caught the driver, the building is crawling with police, and now I’m being told it’s locked down, because they think there might be a bomb planted by this lowly animal.”

I gulped. A mother’s heart could not imagine so much pain. Finally, another call from another one of my sons, but this time with elevation, my traveling son answered. “I’m okay mommy,” he whispered. I felt the rhythm of my soul, and the beat to my heart start up its engine. Miracles really do happen. He is okay.

“What happened?” I managed to say.

“The car almost hit me. I took that entrance because all the entrances were hard to get into. The car smashed into the doors a few feet from me; thirty seconds earlier… or thirty seconds later… he paused and tried to utter the words that needed to be said, “It would have been me.”

He paused. “I called, and then my phone died.”

“Please call your big brother, he is terrified, he heard that some Bachrim think the car might have hit you. He is very worried!” I tried to keep my Jewish overbearing-mother hat at bay, but it wasn’t working.

The words pierced all around town, thousands coming to farbreng, and Seven Seventy is closed. The biggest fatbrengen of the year had stopped! Slowly, other locations opened to take in the Farbrengens, so it wouldn’t be the end. Another obstacle, realizing the Rebbe Maharash’s words that one shouldn’t voice something as a problem, but as an obstacle,

Lechstchillah Ariber: When there is a problem, jump over it, go through it, don’t allow yourself to stop.

“Mommy, 770 is closed, and my Tefillin and luggage are there. What do I do?”

“Can you ask the police officers, tell them, and see what they say?”

“I just asked. They said there could be a bomb and we can’t enter, it will open at 7 the next morning, and I will miss my 6:00 flight!”

Absorbing his words and trying to soothe my son, I comforted him with words: “I’m sorry. Let’s wait and see. Please eat, and Farbreng, pay attention to where you’re going, and charge your phone.” He ended up staying up all night, every hour asking if there was any change, while enjoying each farbrengen. He missed the flight again, but Baruch Hashem was alive, had his Tefillin, and his luggage, so how can I complain? Life seems good even with a missed flight.

Baruch Hashem, he ended up taking the next flight and came home tired, hungry, but safe, and flying high from feeling he is on top of the world, with being a part of Yud-Shevat.

Flying higher, brighter, better, a sense of family, togetherness, it’s all what a family of Chassidim are. Thankful! Joyful! It’s time for a temporary physical pause, but the mental, emotional, spiritual energy kept and will keep on flying until the next time for a Chassidshe Yomtov, peace, love, connection. It’s the rhythm and beat to the mentch: grinning from ear to ear, smiles, laughter, anticipation, with purity, and a true sense of realness.

The lesson I noted was that each one should stand up to be a lamplighter, a chossid, a mentch, regardless of what occurred. To the next generation of chassidim, L’chaim: choose life, choose righteousness, choose the ultimate change in replacing the Tree of Knowledge with the Tree of Life!

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