Parnassa Saved and a
Lost Valuable Found

My business had been doing well, but when a lawsuit was brought against my firm, it put everything at stake. It was clear to me and my accountant that if the opposing party succeeded, my business would suffer a total loss. I was frantic, and was desperately seeking a resolution.

Around the same time, an innocent poster on the wall caught my attention. It was about a trip to Lizenske, to the grave of Rebbe Elimelech zt”l. I was convinced to join and pray for the success of my financial future, which would have serious consequences for my general well being and that of my family. I felt reassured about returning with the yeshuah in hand.

As I was leaving for the trip, my mother handed me her heirloom siddur. It was a precious keepsake of hers, and she kept a careful watch over it. It was the first time that she had ever entrusted it to anyone, and I was of course expected to value its significance and return it when my journey was over.

With the blessings of my family and friends, I left the continent. I prayed my soul out at the tombstone of Rebbe Elimelech. I cried for Klal Yisroel. I davened for my family and for my parents. Above all, I cried for the success of the judicial process. I was aware that its outcome wouldn’t be just a financial matter. I knew I wouldn’t be able to lead a productive life in the future if my business suffered the potential loss. I would be responsible for thousands of dollars in compensation without any reserve. I wouldn’t be the good father and husband of the past, G-d forbid. I wouldn’t be the proper friend and the noble person I am yet acknowledged for. I thought, “This cannot happen and the koach of the great and holy Rebbe will stand up for me!” As I finished my tefillos I felt relieved. I believed that the yeshua was coming.

When our journey was over, the entire group headed to the airport in Krakow. There was some time left before our departure, and the sleepless nights and spirited davening that drained my last bit of energy had taken a toll on my body. Finally feeling stress-free, after months of anxiety, I fell asleep on a corner bench. The hectic airport activity didn’t interfere with my nap at all, until the loudspeaker announced . . . my name. With my face flushed and heart pounding I grabbed my handbag and ran towards the exit. It was ten minutes after departure time! Since I’d checked in earlier and my companions realized that I hadn’t boarded, they’d made a commotion amongst the crew and I was being called. That was extremely embarrassing. I had kept so many people waiting. I made myself comfortable on my seat and the doors finally closed, to everyone’s relief.

“Oy vey! My siddur!” A frantic cry rose into the air, and it was me, taking on embarrassment once again. I ran to the front in an effort to get off the plane and get my mother’s precious siddur. I agreed to miss the flight but not leave the siddur in the Krakow airport, where nobody would ever bother searching for its owner. Of course it was a lost cause and I just ended up looking awkward again. The next few moments filled my mind with dreadful nightmares: my mother’s reaction, my siblings’ feelings . . . I knew I’d be unable to face them.

A hand patting my shoulder returned me to reality. “I’m not quite sure if I can help you,” said one of my travel companions. “You seem to be undergoing something really stressful.” I thanked him and answered, “It’s a lost cause. I’ve left something very precious in the airport.” I could see my friend become very concerned about my troubles, and he said, “You know, it does seem like a lost battle, but there is one thing we can try.”

At that point he told me about the wonderful segulah of the Divrei Chaim zt”l and that it had helped him a lot in the past. Without much to lose, I promised two dollars for the sick, set aside my first donation immediately and hoped for the best. Before long, to the shock of all the passengers, an announcement rang out: “Due to technical matters, the plane must return to the airport in Krakow, where it will undergo a brief maintenance. We apologize for the inconvenience and ask all passengers to remain calm during this short process.” I don’t know about everyone else, but I could not believe my luck! I was given another chance to get the siddur. The staff wasn’t too enthusiastic about allowing me to exit, as the order had called for passengers to stay onboard. After explaining to them the importance of my priceless object, I was finally granted the opportunity to leave for several moments. In my heart there was one doubt still nesting: “Is the siddur still there?” In the blink of an eye I reached that corner bench. There was no siddur to be seen. I bent underneath, searched in the back . . . to no avail. I remembered that I’d done the segulah of the Divrei Chaim and didn’t quit. I headed to the garbage can close by, and there it was, amongst all the trash! Baruch Hashem! The panic was resolved! Our trip resumed without any more surprises.

I finally arrived home, and there was good news: my adversary had agreed to settle. “That means,” my lawyer interpreted, “that their chances of winning otherwise aren’t too great.” I knew better. Some segulah had taken charge! From then on, things turned out a lot better than I had ever expected. The day when the settlement was finalized was the thirtieth day of performing the segulah!