One of the scariest and most overwhelming experiences of my life began after I gave birth to my baby. Five weeks later, I was diagnosed with cancer.

At first, the fear and despair were suffocating. I felt hopeless. I felt, chas v’shalom, as if Hashem had deserted me. I was terrified of what lay ahead and was trying desperately not to fall into depression. I had no strength, no clarity—only confusion and pain.

Slowly, something shifted. I began to speak to Hashem quietly, from my bed. Just simple words—asking for help to get through the day. And that became an anchor for me.

Then came one of the hardest days of all. I was scheduled for a PET-CT scan to check if the cancer had spread anywhere else in my body. It was a terrifying moment; I felt like my life was hanging in the balance. When I arrived at the hospital, they asked if I had fasted. I hadn’t—just 15 minutes earlier I had eaten a sandwich. No one had told me I needed to fast.

They told me I’d have to reschedule and wait another week. Another week of not knowing. Another week of fear. It felt unbearable.

I went home, lay in bed, and cried from the depths of my soul. I screamed to Hashem, stronger than I ever had in my life, begging Him to help me, to save me, to carry me through. And eventually, I fell asleep, drained.

The next morning, I heard my teenage son speaking in the house. I was surprised—he wasn’t supposed to be home. He had gone to Meron for Lag BaOmer and was meant to return straight to yeshiva.

Then I found out what had happened.

He had been in the middle of the terrible ason in Meron—the tragedy where 45 men and boys lost their lives. He was in the exact area of the stampede. He was knocked to the ground, his hat flew off, and other people began falling on top of each other. He was seconds away from being crushed.

But somehow, in a moment of pure instinct and hidden strength, he pulled himself up, climbed over a wall, and saved his own life.

His life was saved on the very same day I had cried out to Hashem from the depths of my darkness, begging Him to save me.

This was no coincidence.

With Hashem’s help, I did get better. But I’m sharing this story to highlight something deeper: when we turn to Hashem and truly rely on His help, He supports us in ways we could never have imagined.

“One who trusts in Hashem will be surrounded by kindness.” — Habote’ach BaHashem, Chesed Yesovevenu (Tehillim 32:10)

Hashem helps — even in the silence, even in the confusion, even in the pain.