The following is the anecdote that came to us from Mrs. L. T., from Hadera, Israel:
Since I was young, I was very skilled in the art of cooking and pastry. At each family event, I was entrusted with the responsibility of preparing the food. Whatever I did in the food field, the resulting dishes were very special. I liked cooking so much that after I got married, the first job I looked for to work was that of a cook.
One day, I found a small ad placed in a restaurant that had opened in the area where I lived by which they were looking for cooks for full-day work. I contacted the owner, and, after a short job interview, I was accepted into the position. I was very happy; the working hours were comfortable for me, and the workplace was close to where I lived. But my joy did not last long. The restaurant owner was not recovering the money he had invested, he got into debt and difficulties and was forced to close the business. In this way, I found myself at home again, without a job.
Since I knew I had a good hand in the kitchen, I continued looking for a job in the field of cooking. This time, the search was more difficult. Over the course of long months, I looked for work by all possible means, asking family members and acquaintances, looking at the newspaper’s classified section, and even placing advertisements on the street. After a few months of search, I found out that an institution was looking for a cook; I proposed myself as a candidate for the position and after a short time I was accepted.
This job did not last long either. After a short period, a new manager came to administer the institution, who, among the various resolutions he made, decided to close the kitchen of the place, opting to resort to the services of an external catering agency that offered them a better price.
At this point, I was in crisis. My anguish had no limits. I felt that bad luck was haunting me, and this feeling was very difficult and terrible for me.
By this time, the Zera Shimshon bulletins were starting to be distributed around the area where I lived, and my husband brought home the bulletins from the synagogue. I read in one of them about the promise of the author of the Zera Shimshon, and I thought that perhaps I too could have the merit of receiving the blessing of the Tzaddik. Thus, every week I began to read the Torah words from the bulletin that my husband brought.
After just a few weeks, my brother, who runs a yeshiva, made me a job offer. The cook of the yeshiva that he administered went into retirement and he was looking for a good cook to take her place, so he offered me the position. Obviously, I took the job. The yeshiva that he administers has been established for decades, and, in addition to obtaining a livelihood, cooking for the young people studying in the yeshiva was a spiritual mission for me. I couldn’t hope for a better job than this! I had the merit of seeing with my own eyes that the blessing of the Tzaddik was fulfilled in the best way.
