The Gift of Recovery
R’ Moshe Gopez of Mexico, may he live long, always hosts me with utmost kindness. On one such visit, he particularly went out of his way, above and beyond the norm, in order to make my stay as comfortable as possible.
Before leaving his home, I felt compelled to leave him a gift, in thanks for the wonderful hachnasat orchim which I was privileged to experience in his home. But what could I offer him? Anything I would give would be a drop in the bucket, nothing compared to the kindness I had received. I therefore turned to Hashem and asked Him to give me a good idea for how to repay my host.
That very night, I had a dream. Father, zy”a, appeared to me and said, “There is one invaluable gift which you can give your host. His daughter has developed a serious intestinal disorder. She must be operated on immediately. But her father is not yet aware of this illness. Go and inform him about it, so that her life can be saved.”
When I awoke in the morning, I clearly remembered my dream, but I was reluctant to reveal it to R’ Gopez. Dreams are often figments of the imagination. Maybe it was just nonsense. I kept the entire matter to myself.
Later in the day, a meeting of rabbanim took place at the home of R’ Gopez. Suddenly, I felt a strong obligation to reveal my dream immediately. I realized that if it was discovered that the girl was deathly ill and I had kept this knowledge from them, I would never forgive myself. Even if it would turn out to be nothing at all, what did I have to lose? No harm would come from her father bringing her to the hospital on a false alarm.
I called aside R’ Gopez and instructed him, “Bring your daughter immediately to the emergency room.” I then related the details of my dream. He heard the urgency in my voice, and hurried his daughter to the hospital. Approximately one hour later, he called me up. “Rabbi David!” he began, his voice laden with emotion. “Your dream was 100% true! Had I waited any longer, my daughter’s life would have been in grave danger! The doctors wheeled her into the operating room right away and are now attempting to save her life.”
The next morning, Baruch Hashem, the girl opened her eyes, and her father thanked me profusely. “Honored Rav,” he started, in a tear-choked voice, “You saved my daughter’s life. This is the greatest gift you could have given me.”
