A Shabbat Story: The Rebbe’s Blessing Came Through a Window

A widow, whose husband had passed away suddenly, devoted herself fully to raising their young son. He was her comfort, her light, her purpose. Then, without warning, her world shattered again, her son became completely paralyzed. He could no longer move his limbs or walk.

She was heartbroken. Desperate to help him, she went from doctor to doctor, but no one could offer hope. The pain weighed on her constantly, and over time, she felt herself slipping into despair.

Then she heard stories about the great tzaddik, Rabbi Meir of Premishlan, whose yahrzeit (anniversary of passing) is on the 29th of Iyar. People spoke of the miracles that came from his blessings. With a flicker of hope, the widow decided to take her paralyzed son and travel to Premishlan, praying that the holy rabbi would bring them a healing.

Rabbi Meir was known for his unusual behavior and cryptic sayings. He often masked his holiness through jokes, sharp remarks, or actions that only made sense later. Many of the miracles he performed were done quietly, “under the table,” so to speak. He didn’t want to take credit for the wonders that came from Hashem.

The widow didn’t know this. All she knew was that she believed. She hoped that if Rabbi Meir simply told her son to rise and walk, it would happen. And so, she prepared a kvitel, a note with her son’s name and request for a blessing. It was customary to accompany this with a small donation, called pidyon, often given in coins.

She didn’t have much. But day by day, she saved whatever small coins she could until she had gathered enough to equal a single gold guilden coin. With this treasure and her son in tow, she set out on the difficult journey.

When they reached Rabbi Meir’s home, she gently lifted her son from the wagon and placed him near the tzaddik’s window outside. Then she entered the Rebbe’s study alone.

She was trembling. Years of pain welled up in her chest. She could hardly speak as she placed the coin-filled bag and her kvitel on the rabbi’s table. Her eyes filled with tears, and her voice caught in her throat.

Rabbi Meir looked at the coins she had so carefully collected. Then he raised his voice and said, “Do you expect me to count every single coin you brought?”

Before she could answer, he scooped up the entire pile with both hands and threw the coins out the window.

His words and actions hit her like a thunderclap. She stood stunned, crushed by what seemed like rejection. Her heart sank. Without a word, she turned to leave, shoulders hunched, feeling that her last hope had just slipped through her fingers.

But when she walked around the house to where her son had been sitting...

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

There, on the ground, was her son bending down to gather the scattered coins. He was walking. On his own. As if he had never been paralyzed at all.

Overwhelmed with emotion, she bent toward him and whispered, “Quick, let’s go. Let’s run before the Rebbe sees you walking and says the miracle was his.”

She left the wheelchair behind, leaning against the wall of the tzaddik’s home.