The year is 1941. The Polish army just lost their last battle, and the German's have taken up their plan against the Jewish People, R"L. All of Europe's Jews are now in the hands of the Nazis, and they are subject to every unimaginable type of torture and murder.

The forest is dark. In a little cave in the earth, surrounded by moist walls, a mother is sitting there with a small child in her arms. The child is crying, tired and hungry, and the young mother comforts him with a song.

Go to sleep my little child
Close your eyes do
You're safe here in a mother's arms
Ai Li Loo Li Loo
Do not worry don't be afraid
That the sun has gone away
For soon will come a brand new morning
And a better day

You had your own Yiddishe Mama
But you didn't know her name
But the Nazi's took her from you
And burned her in their flames
A frigid cold, a bitter wind
A sad rain fell that night
When your mother hid you in a field
Safe and out of sight

My blood was dripping from my sleeve
The bullet wound still fresh
When I found you lying in the grass
Barely bones and flesh
I ran and ran and held you tight
Until we found this place
With Partisans will stay the war
In this little space

G-d Al-mighty did His work
Guarding us with love
Not forsaken for a moment
He watches from above
And I will never let you go
No matter how much pain
For you and I both share one Father
It's the same blood in our veins

Destroy my life they did as well
I have nobody left
You from Poland, me from Russia
They left us all bereft
Both of us are here together
In the cold and wild
From you they took away a mother
From me they took my child

But sleep, my baby, don't be afraid
Here under the skies
You have a Father up in heaven
Who'll never close His eyes
And when you grow a little older
Strong and without fear
This same Heavenly Father serve
And to His words adhere

Go in His ways, always strong
Like a soldier goes to war
Take this world like a storm
Shake it to its core
Your soul ascending through the heavens
One after the other
And you'll ask G-d then to take revenge
For every child's mother

“Here you go,” the postman says, handing him a letter. He stares at the envelope. It's from Poland. Maybe from Mamma and Papa. Or maybe from his wife, with news about his little boy, the son he has never seen. His hands tremble as he opens the crumpled paper.

“Dear friend, it’s Yitzchak Leib, your neighbor. I have news from home.
The day you left for the army, the Germans invaded. They dropped into our village and rounded up all the Jews. I saved myself by fleeing into the forest, and I watched it all unfold. They herded all of our brothers and sisters into the Shul and locked all the doors. The Nazis then set fire to the walls of the Shul, while the cries from within went unheard. Your parents weren’t in the Shul because they had gone into hiding, but the Nazis found them. The Nazis hanged them both.
In the Shul, your wife stood holding your young son in her arms. She watched as all the men wrapped themselves in their Talleisim, preparing to meet their heavenly Father. She watched as the Rav went up to the Aron Kodesh and took out a Sefer Torah.
He turned to the holy congregation. 'We are leaving this world behind us now, my dearest brothers, but let us not fear. The angles are waiting for us in Gan Eden.’
The Shul was dark through the smoke.
‘Come let us do Teshuva on this holy day, let us return our souls to Him clean and pure, like on the day we were born. We will leave like heroes, going proudly from this place. This world was a foolish one, let our hearts not be bothered.’
Black smoke was filling the Shul. The congregation stood listening to the Rav with eyes burning, souls shining.
‘Shema Yisrael Hashem Echad.’ The Rav intoned with his eyes closed, as the whole congregation answered his call to proclaim their faith in the One.
Breathing became almost impossible as the Rav started to recite the final Kaddish, the congregation answering Amen through the deadly clouds.
Your wife stood quietly the entire time, without even shedding a tear. She stood strong, proud. And as she felt the smoke squeezing her soul out of her body, she clutched your little boy to her heart
and whispered your name.”

He stands there for a while not moving, his face white, and his stare blank. Then his knees begin to tremble. His legs won’t support him, his arms will no longer hold up the paper in his hands.
A tear falls down the postman’s face. Each day, bags of letters arrive, each one addressed to someone else.
The postman has no friends, for he has nothing to say.

THE FAST AND THE CURIOUS

So you ask, why is Yom Kippur observed by fasting for 26 hours and spending the majority of that time in a synagogue, reading from prayers that don't speak to you, that you don't understand, that you would never have thought of if you were just given a piece of paper and a pen.
Wouldn't it be more meaningful if I were eating today, so that I could concentrate more on the prayer that I'm saying, rather than the rumbling and grumbling of my stomach?
Wouldn't it be more meaningful if we would only say a few of the prayers as apposed to the entire book!
Wouldn't it be more meaningful if I would just pray in English? These Hebrew rhymes mean to me almost as much as the B'nei Adam means to the chicken.
So, if you would ask me this question, I would answer you in two words: I agree.
But the question begs itself. More meaningful for whom?
You or G-d?
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
After Yom Kippur of course.

Ever got to talk to the President? That would be pretty cool! Imagine walking to your car and you look up and the President is just right there! And he's like "Hey, what's up?" So you tell him about your day, about how you're really good about your taxes and how you'd change things at the airport security screanings. You can't believe that the President of the United States is just standing there listening to you ramble on about how you'd really like a tax cut! Don't you usually have to get an appointment through the Secret Service or something? Well, dream no more! I'll do you one better. During the month before Rosh Hashana the Master of the World is out and about. He's just waiting for someone to walk right up to Him and say, "Master of the Universe, I am Your son. I am Your daughter. I am Your servant. Just watch me this year, You'll see."
Something like that.

Is it stuffy in here, or is it just me?
Is it holy in here, or is that all Shuls?
Is it hungry in here, or is that Yom Kippur?
Like a shot of fresh air, Rosh Hashana arrives and revives.
All year round, running here or walking there. Today is when I back out for a moment or two, or two days.
And G-d knows it.
Hey, He knows everything. He certainly knows about His own holidays.
High holidays.
Like a shot of fresh air, pulsing through the entire world, He gives us new energy, for a whole new year.
Ahh, just what I needed.

Is that your alarm clock? You were just getting comfortable.
My goodness, that sounds like an army.
Or a little baby. Yeah. Maybe a baby.
A Shofar is kind of like an alarm clock, no?
Except, no snooze button.
It's basically a wake-up call.
Is it a wake-up call for you, or for G-d?
Maybe both.
Yeah. Both sounds about right.
He's a pretty good Shofar blower.
He should try doing that for a living.
It could be a whole new beginning for him.
Hey, today's a pretty good day for new beginnings.

I hate to project, but this new project that we're working on is in the works. The name of this site is Sister Child, based loosely on the Yiddish term for cousin, Schvesterkind. Being that this new and exiting project is the work of a collaboration, a joint effort between two humans who happen to be cousins, I thought it appropriate to name the site dedicated to this project Schvesterkind, Schvester meaning sister and kind meaning child. But being that our core audience is of the English speaking persuasion, I took the liberty of translating the Yiddish terminology literally, thereby effectively creating the name SisterChild.BlogSpot.Com. If you care to enjoy this, by all means, enjoy away. If you don't care to, well then just mosey on out of here. OK, Bye.