Tomorrow night begins the Jewish festival of Chanukah, a holiday of miracles. We celebrate the miraculous victory of the Maccabean revolt against the Greek forces, the miracle of one day’s supply of oil lasting eight days, and the miraculous rededication of the Holy Second Temple of Jerusalem. Even the letters on the dreidel spinning top stand for Nes Gadol Hayah Sham, “a great miracle happened there.” The holiday season seems the perfect time to celebrate miracles.
Do you believe in miracles? As a very practical person, I confess to my skepticism. That is, until four years ago, when my grandson Ollie was born. His birth was a complete miracle. I’ll share the story of Oliver Strong Savetsky to offer hope to all families struggling with something (and who isn’t?). Ollie’s life proves that indeed, miracles can happen. Never give up hope.
Wind the clock back a few years. Our daughter Lizzy experienced three miscarriages in one calendar year. Two were ectopic and nearly claimed her life. Although deeply grateful for two healthy daughters, after a pause (and at her husband Ira’s urging), Lizzy mustered the courage to try once more. Her IVF treatment was a success—pregnant for the sixth time.
And then came a familiar crushing blow—the heartbreaking report of yet another miscarriage. The doctor was a religious man and preferred to wait to let nature take its course. Then came the day to terminate the pregnancy, but wait—a pre-procedure sonogram revealed a startling announcement: “There’s a heartbeat!” Lizzy broke into tears: “I had a feeling my baby was still alive.”
It wasn’t an easy pregnancy. A month before her due date, Lizzy went to the hospital and was sent home as a “false alarm.” Laurie joined her the next morning with the premonition she needed to be with her daughter. Their intuition was right. Lizzy’s water broke and there was blood everywhere. Lizzy believed she was losing the baby. She was too nervous to tell Laurie how to get to the hospital, so Lizzy jumped into the driver’s seat and drove them there herself. The doctor’s diagnosis was the life-threatening condition of placenta abruption. Miraculously, Lizzy delivered a premature baby boy minutes later. Ira made it there too, barely in time.
They chose the Hebrew name “Yisroel” (Hebrew for Israel). He was named for my deceased brother Irwin, whose Hebrew name was also Yisroel. The baby’s English name was Oliver Strong Savetsky, a nod to the little fellow’s survival strength.
Jewish law calls for circumcision on the eighth day, but little Oliver Strong was in NICU growing stronger, so we had to delay the Bris a few weeks. Ira, a plastic surgeon, circumcised his own son just as our forefather Abraham did his son Isaac.
At the Bris, Ira arrived with a mysterious gift-wrapped box and told this story. A few years earlier, Lizzy went to Poland to tour the concentration camps. Her group made a stop at Rabbi Elimelech’s grave to pray. Rabbi Elimelech taught that when you pray for something, pray as if you have the faith it will absolutely happen. Lizzy left the grave and immediately called Ira back in New York. She told him to go buy a gender-neutral baby outfit. Ira thought this request was crazy, but he complied. Ira rushed to a kids store and told the clerk, “I need a newborn outfit. I don’t know the size or the gender. Just pick something and wrap it up.” That box sat in the top of Ira’s closet, and he hand carried it to Dallas when they moved over a year later. Ira had no idea what was actually in that box.
Ira then opened the mystery package in front of the Bris attendees. Inside that box was a little boy outfit for a preemie baby just Ollie’s size. We were all aghast … Lizzy’s prayer had been answered, not on her schedule, but on G-d’s. Rabbi Elimelech was right. By taking action to prove they believed, their dream manifested in a newborn son.
Following Jewish tradition, they waited until Ollie’s third birthday for his first haircut. At the “Upsherin” ceremony we attended in Jerusalem, Lizzy told her son, “Oliver Strong, you are small and strong, just like Yisroel, the land of Israel, your Hebrew name. And like Israel, you have the faith and fight in you that it takes to survive. Israel is a miracle, and Ollie, you are a miracle.”
I now believe in miracles.
Grandfather Marvin Blum and father Ira Savetsky rejoicing in the miracle of Ollie’s birth at his Bris (circumcision ceremony).
