A Collection of Stories about the Rebbetzin

The following collection of 3 short stories about Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka is presented in honor of her Yahrtzeit today.

Chesed Halberstam, who served the Rebbe and Rebbetzin, ate at our home one Shabos.

I told him he has to pay for the meal by telling me stories of the Rebetzin that nobody heard. He related the following:

One Friday, The Rebetzin tripped on her stairs and the Doctor said she bruised her foot badly. The best thing would be for her to stay off her foot. The Rebetzin asked Chesed not to burden the Rebbe with the news. As soon as the Rebbetzin was comfortable in bed, Chesed ran to 770, knocked on the door (he had permission to go in anytime) and told the Rebbe all that transpired, including the request of the Rebbetzin. The Rebbe smilled and thanked him.

When the Rebbe came home Friday night, the Rebbetzin was sitting at the Dinning Room table and apologized for not getting up because she was hungry and had already asked Chesed to make Kiddush for her. The Rebbe played along and made Kiddush. Then the Rebbetzin told the Rebbe she already washed for Hamotzi and ate a piece of Challa. Again the Rebbe played along.

Chesed had already set the fish on the table and both ate together. Now comes the test. The Rebetzin always served the Rebbe. Since she could not walk, due to the excrutiating pain, how will she serve the soup? Immidiatly, the Rebbe started to sing “Azamer Bishvochim” in the Yom Kippur tune and the Rebbe went into Dvaikus.

Chesed always sat in the kitchen while they were eating, waiting for instructions. The Rebbetzin called Chesed to quickly bring the soup, chicken and deseret. As soon as all the food was out on the table, the Rebbe finished the Niggun, and they both ate the Shabbos seuda.

***

After the Rebbetzin’s petira, Mrs. Edith Block told the following story at her Friday night Oneg Shabbos.

She and her husband were in Florida at a hotel on vacation. Friday night at the meal, a Chasidishe women sitting at her table, said to her: “You look like a Lubavitcher, I am very sorry about the passing of Rebetzin Schneerson. I have something to tell you about your Rebbetzin.”

Mrs. Block was thinking how do I look like a Lubavitcher? It must be my husband, with his sirtuk and hat.

Anyway, this is the story she told. “We were Bobover Chasidim, and Holocust survivors. We were all young and a group of us just couldn’t have children. Since we were the only survivors of our large families, we went to the Bobover Rebbe for Brochos, but to no avail.

One of the young women decided to go to the Lubaitcher Rebbe for a Brocho because she heard he was a Baal Mofais. About a minyan of us women decided to join her. We knew that the Rebbe lived on President Street right next door to the Bobover Rebbe. As we came to 1304 President Street, we got cold feet and couldn’t decide who should be the one to knock on the Rebbe’s door.

We were standing on the sidewalk talking when a car pulled out of the driveway. The woman driver walked out of the car, sized up the problem and asked us what she could do for us. We stumbeled with our words and finally told her about our predicament.

The women took out a pad and pen from her purse and asked us for our names. She then proeeded to give us the name of a fertility Doctor in Manhattan and told us to call him in a few days.” This Chasidishe woman continued and said, “I don’t know what happened to all the other women. We all went our own ways.

This is what happened to me. I called the office and the person at the other end told me that she could make me an appointment with this very busy Doctor in a year. I started to cry and the person on the other end asked me to repeat my name. She told me to wait. In a few minutes she came back on the phone and told me that they actually have an appointment for me for the following week.

G-D benched me with one daughter. But my daughter gave me ten grandchildren! I found out that the woman who made the appointments for us was non other than the Lubavitcher Rebbetzin!”

***

This story I read in the Kfar Chabad magazine. When the Rebbe lived in Paris there was a certain man who was frum and only ate Kosher. One day he was starving but he didn’t know where there was a kosher restaurant or store to buy food. He was sitting on the Metro bench in the Paris subway, thinking who looked Jewish enough to ask this question. Suddenly, he saw a yid with a hat and a suit walk briskly out of the Metro door. This Yid ran after him and said “Reb Yid, Reb Yid, where is there a Kosher place to eat. I am starving.”

The Rebbe stopped abruptly and told this Yid, “come I’ll show you a place.” The Yid followed the Rebbe back into the subway. They traveled a few stops, got out and walked into a bulding. The Rebbe opened the door and announced to his wife, “Mir hoben a gast” (we have a guest). The Rebbe walked into the tiny immaculate dining room and sat down. There were three settings on the table: set in real cutlery, china, and glasware with a serviet. What blew his mind was the cleanliness in the tiny Paris apartment, and the regal way the table was set.

The Wife brought fruit as an appetizer, then fish with some vegetables and fruit as a desert. The Yid was a little surprized that there was no Hamotzi or Mezonos, but kept it to himself. After benching, the Rebbe appoligized for not serving bread or cake. The Rebbe told him that he went to check out the bakeries and was not satisfied with the flower used in baking these foods. Therefore, his wife didn’t buy flour at all, even to bake herself.

The yid thanked the wife and husband for being mechaye maysim and left. Many years later, this Yid lived in New York and saw a picture of the Rebbe in the Jewish newspaper. He was so upset, realizing that the couple who served him was non other then the Lubavitcher Rebbe and Rebbetzin. He was beyound himself, and he traveled to 770 to ask Mechilla from the Rebbe.

When he saw the Rebbe, he burst out crying asking for Mechilla.

The Rebbe recognized him and said “I have to thank you for giving me the Mitzvah of Hachnosas Orchim.”