My wife and I felt my illness and miraculous recovery had to serve as a yeridah l’tzorech aliyah. We took it as a sign to “Lech Lecha” - continue to challenge ourselves and move forwards. When we heard that the small cities and towns in the Golan were in need of a shliach, it felt like the perfect challenge for us.
I went to New York for Gimmel Tammuz that year, and rented a bed in the local hostel. I went to the Ohel in the early hours of the morning when it was mostly deserted. I wrote a long, heartfelt letter to the Rebbe, explaining the reasoning behind our move and asking for a bracha. Although I never do this, I also asked the Rebbe to show me a sign that I was doing the right thing. After all, it was no easy feat to restart at 40 years old, to uproot our children and lives and begin again in a new, strange place!
I returned to Crown Heights and went to lay down for a short while, but found my bed was already occupied. When others realized what had happened, they wanted to wake the interloper, but I told them to leave him alone. It was almost morning anyhow, so I could do without the sleep.
A while later, I was sitting in the lobby when I heard someone calling my name. It was the man who’d taken my bed.
“I’m so sorry!” he apologized. “I heard you told everyone not to wake me. I want to show my appreciation by giving you a gift. Here!” He pulled out his wallet and took out a dollar bill. “This is a dollar from the Rebbe.” As he handed it to me, he added, with a grin, “I’ll say to you what the Rebbe said - bracha v’hatzlacha!”
Getting a dollar in such an unusual way, accompanied by the wishes of “bracha v’hatzlacha” was an obvious answer to my request. I knew I was doing the right thing.
