Choosing Joy in Crisis: A Family’s Journey from Fear to Faith

Nothing can prepare parents for the moment they hear that their two year old child is seriously ill. Nothing can truly give them the strength to endure such a test, other than faith.

My wife and I grew up far from Torah and mitzvot. Faith was an abstract concept, and not present in my daily life. We arrived at the hospital after our only son had been suffering from prolonged, unexplained pain. We were a young couple, just starting out. We assumed it would be something minor, but things developed quickly and dramatically. From one test to another, the doctors began to understand where it was heading. I preferred not to think too much about it. In truth, I did not consider that possibility at all.

Only when we entered the doctors’ room and saw several staff members waiting, including a social worker, did I realize that something was very wrong. That was just the beginning. When the doctor gently explained that my son had a terrible illness, everything went dark. I felt like I was sinking into deep water, and all the voices around me were like bubbles.

The social worker offered me a calming injection. I did not resist. I said nothing. I was disconnected. I remember staring at my son’s hospital room, at the balloon pictures on the walls, at the toys in every corner. How could any of this exist alongside what was happening?

Then my son’s crying brought me back. My wife stood there, pale, pleading with me to stay grounded with her. Those moments were unbearable.

I cannot measure the time between hearing the diagnosis and the decision that formed within me. But in that moment, I knew there was only one source of strength I could hold on to: God.

I did not know how to speak to Him. I did not know how to pray. The only thing I could recall were songs my father used to sing at Friday night meals, on holidays, or whenever he met someone religious. A simple medley of songs: “The heavens will rejoice,” “David, King of Israel,” “It is a great mitzvah to be joyful,” and “The main thing is not to be afraid.”

Those four songs were the only connection I had to God.

In those moments, I began to hum them quietly. When I reached the words “It is a great mitzvah to be joyful,” I started to cry. As I cried and sang, I began to listen to the words. Despite everything, they gave me strength in a way I cannot explain. I repeated the song again and again.

When I sang “The whole world is a very narrow bridge,” I felt that the fear gripping my heart was no longer the main thing. I felt lifted above it, with a strong sense that everything would be okay. It was like a sudden realization: joy was my greatest medicine.

Choosing Joy in the Darkness

At that moment, I understood that I needed to lift the atmosphere. I began singing out loud.

I noticed my wife looking at me, her eyes swollen from crying, not understanding what was happening, but slowly her lips began to move with the words. It was contagious.

I started clapping. Our sweet little boy joined in.

It was unbelievable. We were a small family in a pediatric ward, minutes before being transferred to oncology, and we were singing.

My wife stepped out briefly and returned with a smile. “You won’t believe this,” she said. “I heard the head nurse telling another nurse that maybe we need psychological help. ‘Who ever heard of people singing and dancing when they receive news like this?’”

At that moment, we burst into laughter. Completely. We could not stop. Our son laughed with us, not understanding anything, but the joy was contagious. Even the nurse who came in to check on us ended up laughing along.

It was, in its own way, contagious.

Building an Island of Joy

When we arrived at the pediatric oncology ward, the first thing we did was fill the room with balloons, stickers, and music. Anything that could lift the atmosphere.

Very quickly we got to know the volunteers who came to bring joy. With us, they had a full stage to perform. They became close friends. Our room was always full of people coming to bring happiness.

Incredibly, the results were positive. Despite all predictions, our son fought like a hero. He passed every stage.

I made it clear to everyone who came: if you know how to bring joy, you are welcome. No sadness, no pessimism. If that is difficult, please do not come.

We made a decision to be joyful, no matter what.

Lifting Each Other

I will not deny that there were many moments when we broke down, both my wife and I. But we made a promise that whenever one of us fell, the other would lift them up. And it worked.

Despite the pain, the fear, the helplessness of watching our child suffer, joy became our greatest source of strength.

From Joy to Faith

With joy came faith. I found myself speaking to God.

At one point, I wondered if I was acting correctly or just losing my mind. I wanted to understand. So I turned to one of the volunteers, a religious young man who came to dance and cheer up the children.

My wife and I approached him with questions. Is joy really a mitzvah? Why? How do you speak to God? We asked everything.

He answered thoughtfully and promised to bring us lectures about joy and faith. He recommended listening to certain rabbis who speak about these topics. We listened. We learned. We reached out, met with teachers, and asked difficult questions. There were tears, doubts, even anger. But we came out stronger, with clarity and with smiles.

Everything changed. We found meaning. I realized that even before I knew how to call out to God, He had already guided me.

A Victory Beyond Expectations

Our son underwent surgeries and a series of treatments. The medical outlook was not encouraging, but he overcame it all.

We saw clearly how joy affected him. Every time someone came to lift his spirits, he responded with strength. And when we fell into sadness, we saw how quickly it impacted him.

From that point on, our battle was for joy.

And after years of struggle, our son won. The illness faded. Today, he is healthy. We continue with follow ups and prayers, but there is a great light in our lives.

A Life Transformed

Today I know that joy is the key to everything. It brought us closer to God. I now study Torah regularly. My wife covers her hair, and we observe Shabbat properly. Our son is enrolled in a religious school, and we hope he will continue to grow in Torah learning.

I do not understand the calculations of Heaven. But I know this: when God sends a test, only through joy can we endure it, and receive the many gifts that come with it.

The month of Adar carries a powerful energy of joy, even after Purim. Open your heart. Pray that joy will remain with you for life.

Do not give it up. Choose joy.