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From: Yosef Hakohen [mailto:[log in to unmask]] 
Sent: Sunday, July 26, 2009 09:11
To: Yosef
Subject: A Unifying Woman


My Search for the Soul of Zion - 87b 

 

A Unifying Woman:

 

Dear Friends,

 

In the previous letter, "Converts and Jewish Unity," I shared with you some
moving information about the Kaliver Rebbe, a Chareidi leader who has become
a unifying figure within the Land of Zion.  In this letter, I will share
with you some moving information about Lifsha Feldman, a great woman from a
Chareidi community in Jerusalem who became a unifying figure through her
loving devotion to children with various disabilities. She suddenly passed
away a couple of weeks ago at age 45. At her funeral, women from Chareidi
communities and women from other communities hugged each other, as they
shared their grief. In addition, men from Chareidi communities, including
Torah sages, and men from other communities stood side-by-side sobbing. 

 

Who was Lifsha Feldman, and what had she done in her 45 years that drew
thousands to her funeral? The beginning of the answer can be found in the
attached excerpts from an article about her by the noted writer and
journalist, Jonathan Rosenblum. 

 

Shalom,

Yosef Ben Shlomo Hakohen

 

All these are my children

Jul. 23, 2009
Jonathan Rosenblum , THE JERUSALEM POST 

.Fourteen years ago, Lifsha gave birth to her ninth child, Ruchama, who was
born with a heart defect. During surgery to correct that defect, Ruchama was
left severely brain-damaged by a cerebral embolism. When the news finally
sank in that Ruchama's damage was irreversible, Lifsha resolved to do
everything possible to ensure that her daughter reach her full potential. 

SHE STARTED by forming an organization to offer extra therapies within
Jerusalem's Alyn Children's Hospital. Three years later, she decided that
was not enough. She visited all the existing institutions and determined
that none were providing all the therapy she wanted for her daughter. So she
decided to open her own. 

That decision was greeted with understandable scoffing. How could a mother
of ten, whose only previous job was running a nursery school in her home,
with no experience in special education, administration or fund-raising,
create a state-of-the-art facility? 

MESHI (Machon Shikum Yeladim) opened its doors with 35 children. None of the
therapists were prepared to give up their previous jobs because none were
convinced it would survive the year. Today MESHI serves 180 children, and
employs an even larger number of staff. 

I VISITED MESHI a few months ago. Every square inch of space is utilized,
and each room individualized. There are rooms for specific therapies -
speech, physical (large motor), and occupational (small motor) - and a
"white room," which cost $70,000, to trigger sensory development. (The
annual operating budget is $2.5 million, above what the government covers,
even before the cost of building a new, expanded facility.) 

Each child's therapeutic program is "sewn to fit the child," not dictated by
the number of therapies the government will cover. For some children, the
goal is to be able to hold a spoon or sit in a chair; others, whose
disabilities are primarily physical, not cognitive, will be successfully
integrated into regular schools. 

The amount of equipment is mind-boggling. The exercise room has more
treadmills and elliptical machines than most gyms. In one room, I saw two
specially-designed vests like those used by astronauts in weightlessness.
They are used as part of a new therapy developed in Poland. Each costs
several thousand dollars. The oversized tricycle I watched a 12-year-old boy
pedaling in the school playground cost $4,000. In one classroom, each child
has a specially designed computer, which they use to communicate. One boy
can only move his cursor via a specially-rigged sensor attached to his ears.


A visit to MESHI has a way of putting things in perspective. Irritated by
your child's failure to clean his room? Try imagining what it is like for
parents who have to physically assist a child weighing 60 pounds or more
with every basic activity. Yet a visit to MESHI is far from depressing.   

In every room - except those dedicated to particular therapies - there were
six to eight children and an almost equal number of adults - a teacher and
her assistant, together with various therapists and assistants to do the
hands-on therapies. The love and dedication evident on the faces of the
young women working with the children was reflected by the children. 

The overwhelming impression I left MESHI with is how much goodness and
caring exists in the world. And it was Lifsha Feldman who set the tone.
Every morning, she stood outside greeting each transport to make sure the
children were removed gently. A neurologist related that Mrs. Feldman could
discuss over 100 children at a time with him, without a file in front of
her, with as much clarity as if she were discussing her own child. 

A FEW YEARS AGO, Lifsha was interviewed on Kol Yisrael's From Morning Until
Evening program. There is something close to song in the calm and serenity
with which she discusses the challenges of raising a severely handicapped
child. 

"It is easier for a religious family to accept something like this - or at
least I think so - because they know that everything is directed from Above.
Not just directed, but directed for our benefit," she tells the interviewer.
For that reason, she and her husband never thought about bringing a
malpractice suit. 

These words are spoken without a trace of the bravado of someone trying to
convince herself. She and her family have been fortunate, she says, in that
it has been so easy to see the blessing from what happened to Ruchama: the
hundreds of children who have benefited from MESHI 

It is not just the children of MESHI who have gained, she insists, but her
own family as well. The children have learned to be more sensitive because
of Ruchama, not to be embarrassed by disability, and that helping their
sister and parents is an expected part of life. 

The interviewer asks what it is like to raise ten children. "Nifla
(wonderful)" is Lifsha's one word reply. She makes it sound easy.
"Remember," she says, "they are all different ages. They don't all come home
at the same time. The younger ones have their time when they come home. And
the older children have theirs. And when the older boys come home from
yeshiva, they also have their time." 

O.K., she admits, maybe a mother of ten has to invest a little bit more
energy and attention to make sure she doesn't miss anything with one of the
children. But when she describes her joy at having the whole family -
children and grandchildren - gathered around the Shabbos table, and the
feeling of absence if even one child is missing, she is utterly convincing. 

Every time the interviewer cites some achievement of hers in MESHI or at
home with the word, "You," Lifsha reflexively responds "We," either in
reference to the staff of the school or her family. 

The interviewer asks at one point why MESHI serves both religious and
non-religious children. "Lama lo - Why not?" Lifsha replies. "There is no
educational reason to separate these children," she says. "As long as the
parents don't have a problem with a school run by haredim, we don't have any
problem either." 

"She thought only about others," Lifsha's husband repeated over and over in
his eulogy. She gave her life for the children of MESHI. (She passed away
suddenly late at night only hours before a scheduled meeting with leading
government officials to discuss MESHI's budget deficits.) Her family is
determined that the children of MESHI will go on receiving everything they
need to reach their full potential - not least of all boundless love.

 <http://www.meshischool.org/> http://www.meshischool.org/

This letter was sent out by:

Hazon - Our Universal Vision:   <http://www.shemayisrael.com/publicat/hazon>
www.shemayisrael.com/publicat/hazon 

 


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