Homecoming
When I was in France, a woman approached me and bitterly related that her daughter had disappeared sixteen years earlier and, until this day, she had no idea of her whereabouts. She was not even sure if she was among the living. As I was planning a trip to the grave of my grandfather, Rabbi Chaim Pinto, in Morocco, I asked the woman to bring me a photograph of her daughter. I promised that when I would visit the grave on the hilula, I would place her picture upon it and ask for his help in finding her daughter. She brought me the photograph. I traveled to Morocco, as planned, and requested that the tzaddik beseech Heaven for this lost daughter, just as I had promised.
A month and a half later, the woman came to see me, her face wreathed in smiles. She related that in a most miraculous manner her daughter had returned home. The girl told her mother that for the past month she had heard voices telling her, “Your mother suffered enough because of you. Get up and return to her!” The voice repeated its order and gave her no rest. She finally yielded and packed up her bags, making her way back to home and hearth.
