She Thanked Hashem—At That Moment, Her Son Was Saved

It was an ordinary Tuesday afternoon at Rockland Lake, New York. Yehuda, the youngest son of the M. family from Monsey, was on a yeshiva hike with his classmates. The weather was perfect—sunny, fresh, and full of life. The boys walked happily along the trail, enjoying the beauty around them. Forests, hills, and lakes surrounded them like a painting. At the front walked the guide; behind him, the boys talked and laughed.

"Yehuda," his friend Shaul called out, "look at this lake! Want to stop here for a few minutes, dip our feet in, and then catch up?" Yehuda smiled and agreed. The two stepped away from the group and walked toward the water. Shaul, always the adventurous one, placed a foot into the lake. The cool water felt nice—and invited him to go deeper. But within seconds, everything changed. What looked like a peaceful lake was really a dangerous swamp. Shaul began to sink. Panic hit, and he instinctively grabbed Yehuda to stop himself from going under.

Meanwhile, back home in Monsey, the phone rang. Mrs. M., a beloved teacher and speaker in the community, picked up. A woman on the other end asked her to join a last-minute gathering for women—a seudat hoda’ah, a thanksgiving meal, where they planned to say the powerful prayer “Nishmat Kol Chai” together. This ancient prayer, traditionally said to express deep gratitude to Hashem (G-d), is known to carry great spiritual power.

Mrs. M. hesitated for a moment. She hadn’t planned to go. But something stirred in her heart. “Okay,” she said. “With Hashem’s help, I’ll come.” She quickly made her way to the gathering and began to share some words of encouragement.

Back at the lake, Shaul had managed to pull himself out—but in doing so, Yehuda slipped and fell into the swamp instead. Within seconds, he was sinking. The mud, thick like glue, began swallowing him whole. He tried to free himself, but the swamp was too strong. Soon, it covered his legs, then his waist, then his chest. Yehuda struggled, but there was no escape. He looked at Shaul with desperate eyes that seemed to plead, “You won’t leave me here… right?” But Shaul stood frozen, helpless.

Yehuda felt the mud reach his neck. He realized this could be the end. He wanted to say the Shema, the prayer every Jew says to declare belief in one G-d—“Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad”—but even his mouth was full of mud. So he concentrated the words in his heart, whispering them in his thoughts.

At exactly 4:28 p.m. in Monsey, someone at the women's gathering turned to Mrs. M. and said, “We’re reciting ‘Nishmat Kol Chai’ to thank Hashem for miracles in our lives. Would you like to join us, even though this isn't your miracle?” Mrs. M. smiled softly. “Actually, it is. Sixteen years ago, Hashem gave me my youngest son, Yehuda. We waited for him for many years. And now, suddenly, I feel I haven’t thanked Hashem enough for him. I want to say ‘Nishmat’ just for him.”

The women began to sing the prayer out loud, voices full of feeling: “Nishmat kol chai tevarech et shimcha, Hashem Elokeinu…”—“The soul of every living being will bless Your name, Hashem our G-d…”

And at that very moment, back at the swamp, Yehuda was almost completely gone. His mouth was covered, he could barely breathe. But suddenly, out of nowhere, Shaul saw something—a wooden oar left near the edge of the water. He quickly threw it to Yehuda. Yehuda grabbed it—and then, something unbelievable happened. It was as if the swamp let go. Yehuda felt his body rise, as if lifted by an unseen force. With ease that made no sense, Shaul pulled him out.

Normally, rescuing someone from such a swamp would take at least three strong adults. But here, two teenage boys managed it. Yehuda stood, soaked and stunned, looking back at the death trap that had nearly swallowed him. A miracle had just taken place.

That night, at 9:00 p.m., Yehuda sat at the dinner table with his parents. He told them the whole terrifying story, tears in his eyes. His mother listened, silent—until she interrupted, pale and emotional. “Wait—what time was this happening?” When Yehuda told her, she burst into tears.

“At that exact time,” she whispered, “I was saying ‘Nishmat Kol Chai.’ I was thanking Hashem—for you. I thanked Him for giving you to us, and He pulled you from the pit. Just like the words in Tehillim (Psalms): ‘I will exalt You, Hashem, for You have lifted me up… You kept me alive from going down into the pit.’”