“It was a maamad! We were all gathered together in Rochel Leah’s hospital room. She was lying there, intubated… and her family members? They were singing, yes singing! It was Erev Shabbos and Rochel Leah loved Shabbos and loved singing. So, her family members began to sing Shabbos songs. Why? Because that is how she lived! That is what she wanted! Even in her illness, in her pain, she was the happiest person to be around. And in the end, that is how she passed away with songs of Shabbos floating out of her room almost until the time of yetzias neshomah…”
Mrs. Rochel Leah Ginsburg lived her life with songs of praise to Hashem on her lips. She lived a life of dveikus, ne’imus, incredible kabbolas yissurim b’ahavah, emunah, and bitachon that whatever Hashem does is for the best.
She was so normal, so regular, and yet, the way she passed the test of illness with her love of Hashem, her belief that all Hashem does is good intact, is reminiscent of the way gedolim live through illness. One baal habayis from Flatbush put it succinctly when he said at the shivah, “People say that today we don’t have many gedolim, but we see that there are women in today’s time who have the middah of kabbolas yissurim b’ahavah, and it can be done!”
Early Years
Rochel Leah Kalatsky was born in Baltimore 44 years ago to her parents, Rav Yosef and Mrs. Judy Kalatsky. Her father, Rav Yosef, a maggid shiur in Bais Medrash Yad Avrohom, has been instrumental in bringing countless Yidden back to Yiddishkeit. Her mother, Mrs. Yehudis Chana, fondly known as Judy, was a remarkable wife, mother, and role model who had been born and raised in a world when Yiddishkeit was not yet built up in America.
Mrs. Kalatsky grew up in St. Louis in a family of Torah builders and developed a single-minded dream to marry a ben Torah. She actualized that dream with her marriage to Rav Yosef Kalatsky, who learned b’chavrusa with Rav Ruderman, rosh yeshiva of Ner Yisroel Baltimore, and was in a chaburah with such talmidei chachomim as Rav Yissocher Frand and Rav Moshe Brown. She went on to build a home of Torah and kedusha.
The Kalatskys lived in Baltimore where Rav Kalatsky learned in kollel until Rochel Leah was seven years old. When the family moved to Monsey, she attended Yeshiva of Spring Valley for elementary school, Bais Yaakov High School of Monsey, and then BYA Seminary.
A couple of years later, she married Rabbi Yitzchok Ginsburg, a son of senior rosh chaburah in Bais Medrash Govoah of Lakewood, Rav Chaim Ginsburg, a grandson of Rav Ephraim Mordechai Ginsburg, a rosh yeshiva of the Mirrer Yeshiva of Flatbush and a great-grandson of Rav Yechezkel Levenstein, mashgiach of Mir and Ponovezh.
One of the first things Mrs. Ginsburg did after her chasunah was to go to the seforim store and purchase two sifrei Chofetz Chaim. She had watched her parents learning this sefer over the years and she wanted to begin her home with the same foundation.
Together with her husband, they learned the halachos every night, beginning from day one. They did not just learn it when they needed a yeshuah. It was so important to her that even when circumstances prevented them from learning, she always made sure to resume. She was the driving force and felt that it was great for the atmosphere and chinuch in the home.
At times, her husband would suggest, “We already learned it so many times…” but she would insist that “we always need a refresher!”
So Normal… Yet!
An underlying theme to any conversation about Mrs. Rochel Leah Ginsburg was, “She was so normal! She wasn’t a rebbetzin, she was just a regular person, with it, fun and full of life. Yet, there was nothing “normal” about her connection to Hashem, her emunah, bitachon and the way she so completely accepted yissurim with ahavah!”
When Rochel Leah was first diagnosed nearly four years ago, she and her husband decided that they did not want anyone to know what was going on. Somehow, they managed to keep it all a secret — despite terrible pain, debilitating treatments, and general weakness. It seemed that they had made a conscious decision: This was a challenge from Hashem, and they would embrace it while maintaining their lives and home as if nothing was happening.
If no one knew, no one could inject despair or pity into their world. There would be no doom and gloom predictions or feelings projected onto them.
They succeeded so unbelievably that even their children had no idea just how sick their mother was. They understood and knew that she had “a condition” that made her physically weak but deathly ill? Not at all.
When her health had deteriorated to such an extent that family and friends did find out, her sister-in-law once asked her, “Rochel Leah, tell me one thing — how did you keep it quiet? How did you manage without telling anyone? Didn’t you need your friends?”
“Estie, I have Hashem,” she answered in the most simple, natural way, “I don’t need anyone else. I get comforted when I talk to Hashem.”
It was her connection with Hashem that was her most pivotal relationship.
Her Tefillah: Her Connection with Hashem
It was a relationship that was seen in her joie de vivre, the joy in life that seeped out of her every pore. It was a relationship that was seen and felt in her every interaction. And, perhaps most noticeably, it was a relationship that was seen in her davening.
From when she was a young girl, Rochel Leah invested her heart and soul into her davening. Her sister remembers davening with her in shul on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. “Despite her youth, she davened the longest Shemoneh Esrei in the shul. It wasn’t put on. It wasn’t fake. She was clearly speaking with her Creator, her Father.”
Years later, her daughters appreciated the fact that they did not daven on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in a local shul. Rather, they would go to Monsey for the Yomim Tovim. One daughter explained, “When I was much younger, I was so happy that we did not daven local. I knew that my mother davened the longest, sincerest, most thought-out Shemoneh Esrei and I was not interested in everyone else seeing that.”
“It was the way my mother davened Shemoneh Esrei, the way she enunciated every single word, the way I was able to hear her investing heart and soul into the tefillah that made me have kavanah in my tefillah!”
The most telling aspect of her davening was the fact that it was so real throughout her life that it did not change when she got sick. She did not suddenly begin creating a relationship with Hashem through her davening in a desperate plea to get better. She simply continued the relationship that she always had, accepting the fact that whatever was happening to her, was exactly what Hashem wanted for her.
Always Giving
At the shivah, a neighbor commented to her daughters, “Your mother had such a challenging life! She lost her mother when she was young (and still had unmarried siblings). She was sick…”
“What can I say?” her daughter shared, “That is not at all how we saw our mother. We never saw her as a person who suffered through life! She was so normal, so happy, so accepting! She was the perfect mother!”
She had one strong desire, to give her children a regular, carefree childhood with a warm, open relationship and that is exactly what she did.
When her daughters would come home at the end of the day, Mrs. Ginsburg would sit and shmooze with them. Her first question was invariably for them to share one positive thing that happened that day. Somehow, despite all challenges in her life, she maintained a calm, joyous household, permeating everything she did with a sense of ruigkeit and simcha.
Throughout her illness, she ran her home as if nothing untoward was happening, making sure that there was always a fresh, hot supper available, and keeping the house meticulously clean as always, despite the constant pain.
This past year, her 12th-grade daughter Malky served as a chesed girl, helping Rochel Leah’s sister, Mrs. Gelb, with her two-year-old twins.
“One night,” Mrs. Gelb shared, “I had called Rochel Leah, but she was so weak that we could not even shmooze. The next day, Malky came to help and before she left, I offered, ‘Would you like to join us for supper?’
“’Supper? No, my mother makes supper!’”
“I could not believe my ears! Her mother was still making supper even when she could barely talk?! Later, during the shivah, I asked my niece if her mother had really made supper that night. Her one, simple answer said it all, ‘Yes!’”
The most important thing in the world to her was that her daughters should live regular, normal lives unburdened by the specter of her illness, and even as her health deteriorated, she remained a full, active presence in her daughters’ lives, interesting herself in the day-to-day happenings.
It was before Sukkos of 2023 when the decision was made. The Ginsburg family would be going to Eretz Yisroel for Yom Tov. “We were all on a high! In truth,” her daughter Rivky says contemplatively, “I don’t think she was really up to it, but we had no idea at the time. We went on hikes before Yom Tov and she came along. When we weren’t happy with the first apartment we were in, she did everything possible to find an alternative and she did. We moved from one apartment to the other without even realizing that it might be hard on Mommy. When our father wanted to run around visiting all different people, we asked Mommy if she enjoyed going along. Her answer was classic her – always looking to do things for others. ‘I don’t necessarily love it, but Totty wants to go, so I go.’ It was our last family trip, and it was indescribably beautiful. We all came home on a high!”
This past November, when the illness was progressing, Mrs. Ginsburg went to visit her daughter in seminary. It didn’t matter that most people were not traveling to Eretz Yisroel at the time because of the war situation. It didn’t matter that she could barely walk or get comfortable. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t able to sleep the entire trip. What mattered to her was that she wanted to be there for her daughter, and she was, even if it meant superhumanly pushing herself to walk with her daughter in the shuk.
Several months later, after she fell and was suffering terribly from a broken hip and broken shoulder, her daughter was hesitant to return to seminary after having been home for Pesach.
Her mother was puzzled, “Why would you want to stay home?” she asked, “I am fine! I am not going anywhere! Please stay and enjoy your last months in seminary.”
She said it with such sincerity, such childlike belief that she was not going anywhere, that she was going to weather this storm and survive, that everyone believed her!
Doing What Needed to be Done
When her mother was niftar thirteen years ago, it was Rochel Leah who became the nucleus of the family, drawing everyone together, arranging the yahrtzeit seudos with her signature flair, planning, arranging, and hosting her brother’s aufruf as if it was the easiest thing in the world, traveling to Monsey on a regular basis for Shabbos and Yom Tov almost as if it was next door, effortlessly being the one to host her married and unmarried siblings…
It made no difference that she was a young mother with young children. Pesach had to be made in her father’s home in Monsey; who went several times to cook and clean? The Ginsburgs, of course! Her daughter’s memories of the run-up to Pesach are memories of peaceful, unhurried preparation, cleaning, cooking, peeling, and in general having a fun time together while making Pesach in Monsey.
In her quiet, unassuming manner, she did what she felt had to be done.
When her mother was sick, she consistently traveled to Monsey to help. Afterward, she devotedly took care of her father.
On one occasion, she and her husband accompanied her father, Rav Kalatsky, to Torah Umesorah’s Presidents Convention. Later, a bystander commented, “Of all the speeches at the convention, what made the greatest roshem on me was the way this couple honored and took care of their father!”
When her younger sister was engaged, she traveled regularly to help her sister with gown fittings, the sheitel macher, and all the other myriad errands that a mother generally does for a kallah.
“She literally married me off!” her sister, Chayala Gelb exclaimed. “My mother was niftar a year before I got married. When I got engaged, it was Rochel Leah who made sure I had everything I could possibly need. She had three little girls at the time, but I had no idea what arrangements she made for them when she would come to spend the day with me in Monsey. This is what she wanted to do, and she just did it naturally, with no airs. She made me feel like it was no big deal at all. In hindsight, I really don’t know how she did it!”
“Later,” Mrs. Gelb continued, “when I had my oldest son, Rochel Leah had a one-day-old baby but that did not stop her from calling to reserve a nurse for me and from making arrangements for my baby’s bris! She was at the bris with her nine-day-old baby, making sure that I felt coddled and cared for. Only now, do I understand how remarkable and selfless it was!”
Similarly, it was important for someone to step in and help her youngest sister Naomi, who has Down syndrome. At the time of her mother’s petirah, Naomi lived at home. She attended special programs during the day and Mrs. Ginsburg helped arrange for people to come help out at night. She would travel to Monsey to take Naomi shopping and would be in constant contact with the people involved in Naomi’s care.
After Rav Kalatsky remarried, Rochel Leah worked tirelessly to get her sister accepted into a group home, taking care of all aspects including arranging bus rides for her to travel to Lakewood for Shabbos and Yom Tov.
When Covid hit, who devotedly hosted Naomi? The Ginsburgs. Not only did she open her house and home to her sister with Down syndrome, but she created a loving atmosphere that permeated the entire home, an atmosphere of “We love to have Naomi here!” And she truly, wholeheartedly did.
Nothing, however, absolutely nothing that she did was at the expense of her husband and children — not her duties as a daughter and sister, not her work, nothing. Her daughters never felt that other people encroached on their mother. “She was always there for us. Even when she was working, we never hesitated to call her as needed.”
A Yid First, Work Comes Second
Years ago, Mrs. Ginsburg worked in the mortgage field, but she never focused on the money. Her focus was always on doing what was right and what Hashem would want her to do. She was an employee who invested her heart and soul into her job.
It once happened that she was working on a mortgage. The day of the closing was approaching. All approvals were in. Only the formal closing separated her from earning a substantial commission… but she was worried.
Picking up the phone, she called her client, “Rabbi Segal*, can you please come down to my house? I want to discuss the closing with you.”
When Rabbi Segal and his wife arrived, Mrs. Ginsburg got right down to business. “I will be very honest with you,” she said, “The approvals are all in. We can go to the closing as scheduled but there is something suspicious about your partners’ financials. Something he is doing is crooked. I don’t know if you should put your name on a deed with him.”
Mrs. Ginsburg stood to lose thousands of dollars! But that did not stop her from doing what was right; what Hashem wanted from her. (Rabbi Segal did choose to compensate her somewhat for her time, but she did not know that when she advised him to pull out of the deal.)
“What can I tell you,” Rabbi Segal exclaimed, “I took her advice and pulled out of the deal. She was later proven to be 100% correct! The person who would have been my partner — a good friend — was proven to be a crook. He ultimately went bankrupt and took many investors down with him. I am forever indebted to Mrs. Ginsburg that I was not affected.”
To this day, a co-worker of Mrs. Ginsburg from twenty years ago credits her with any success he has seen in earning his parnossah as she taught him the ropes. That is on the gashmiyus level.
Mrs. Ginsburg, however, made an impact through her work on others on the ruchniyus level as well. Recently, someone whose wife worked with her over 23 years ago, when she was still a single girl working in Monsey, contacted her husband. “For twenty-three years, my wife has been quoting the hashkafos and lessons that she absorbed from Mrs. Ginsburg when they worked together all those years ago!”
Indeed, her very ne’imus and care for others, shown with such chein, endeared her to all. She always knew what to say and how to say it, speaking with seichel and tochen to make people feel good. She was so happy and upbeat that people wanted to be with her and shmooze with her.
Honoring Others
Her relationship with her stepmother was warm and natural. She insisted on showing her the utmost kavod, calling her Bubby Ruthy, not Tante, not Ruthy. She treated her as the grandmother of her children.
In general, she was very particular to accord everyone the proper kavod, insisting on calling all her siblings and her husband’s siblings by the titles of Uncle and Tante, rather than on a first-name basis in front of her children.
She also attached great importance to treating the older generation with proper respect and value. She had a grandmother in Monsey and made it her business to visit.
She was once shmoozing with old friends from Monsey when one friend commented that her grandmother had moved to Lakewood.
“So, you go to visit her now?” Rochel Leah asked in all innocence.
Her friend hemmed and hawed. Clearly, she did not visit often at all.
Rochel Leah could not understand, “It is so important for you to honor your grandmother! Why wouldn’t you go visit her now that you live in the same city?”
Her friend absorbed the message and began visiting her grandmother once a week. To this day, she credits Rochel Leah with the fact that she managed to build a relationship with her grandmother!
The Happiest Place to Be
Over the last few months, when she was really unwell, relatives and friends would spend hours with her. When people asked them what they shmoozed about, their answers were startling in their simplicity. “Everything, regular, day-to-day life!” It made no difference that she was suffering, her focus was on everyone else.
She wanted people to come over just to shmooze. She wanted people to tell her what was going on in the outside world even though she had stopped venturing out, leaving all errands to her devoted husband.
Her close friend and neighbor, Mrs. Mimi Amsel, remembers. “I spent hours and hours in her presence. The fact that she was in pain, the fact that she was sick did not change anything. Her home remained a home permeated with simcha. We shmoozed like normal.
“It was two days before she went to the hospital for the last time. It was hard for her to talk but that did not stop her. When my daughter, who was preparing to attend a chasunah called asking me to come home to help her decide what to wear, Rochel Leah indicated that she should come over with all the options and we would help her decide! And that is exactly what she did… and two days later, she was intubated.”
Her sister-in-law agreed, “She had such yissurim. She could not move and yet, I enjoyed being there every day! We would sit and shmooze as if nothing was wrong! Not only that, her focus was completely on others. One time, we had an entire discussion about the fact that my daughter wanted to go away for the Shabbos before school Shabbos, which meant she would be away for two Shabbosos in a row. The following Sunday, when my daughter came to visit, Rochel Leah had not forgotten and asked her, ‘Nu, so how was Shabbos?’
“My daughter was shocked! Here her aunt was so sick, but she remembered that she had gone away for Shabbos and had been thinking about her!”
One Thursday morning, Rochel Leah decided that she wanted to make cholent to serve all the people who would be coming to visit later in the evening when a singer was scheduled to come to sing. Mind you, she had no appetite and would not enjoy the cholent. She could barely walk, she had only limited use of one of her arms, but she was determined to create a happy, uplifting atmosphere in her home!
Her neighbor went to the store to buy ingredients. When she returned to the house, she put together most of the cholent. Rochel Leah excitedly spiced the cholent and then sent out a text inviting friends and relatives to come “join the party.”
It didn’t matter that her skin was already yellow and that she did not look at all like herself. It didn’t matter that she was only able to wear hospital gowns. She wanted people to come, she did not want to sit there feeling sorry for herself and she did not want others to feel sorry for her!
So many people came just to enjoy the simcha. Someone once asked her, “Do you mind so many people coming? Perhaps we should tone things down?”
Her answer was startling in its simplicity. “Life is about giving,” she said, “Hashem gives us life to share it with others. It doesn’t matter whether people are coming to be mevaker choleh or to hear the singer singing. It is our job down here to share!”
Even the singers who came commented that the Ginsburg home was nothing like other homes of cholim. Other “sick houses” are sad, heavy, and depressing, but not this one. This house was full of hope and joy!
Not only did Mrs. Ginsburg work hard to create a happy, healthy, joyous atmosphere despite her suffering, but she also made sure to never, ever complain. Nobody, not her husband, not her children, not her closest relatives and friends, ever heard a word of complaint pass her lips.
On this past Chol Hamoed Pesach, her sister-in-law, who was visiting, asked her how her night had been. She began very matter-of-factly, uncomplainingly explaining that it had not been so smooth when suddenly her daughter walked in. She switched gears and focused on her daughter, complimenting her on how she looked.
The Beginning of the End
Mrs. Ginsburg had been sick for over two years. Physically she was extremely weak and had even shrunken several inches. She had been having grueling treatments, but nothing seemed to be helping. The general world was in ignorance and even her children, family, and friends barely knew. And then it happened.
She was returning home from an appointment. Walking through her back door, she was so weak that she fell. The pain was excruciating! But neither a kvetch nor a krechtz passed through her lips. She was taken to the local hospital and was ultimately transferred to Cornell. The fall had caused her to break her hip and her shoulder.
She underwent a hip replacement and spent a week in Cornell after which she was transferred to rehabilitation in Williamsburg, where she also had treatments. A wonderful couple, the Freunds, lived not far from the rehab and happily hosted the Ginsburg family for Shabbosos.
Mrs. Freund became a close friend of Rochel Leah and went to visit her, keeping her company at her last treatment before her petirah.
“She was planning on living,” Mrs. Freund told the family at the shivah. “During that last visit, she was busy talking about the fact that she was looking for a new pocketbook. It should be black with room for her phone and her siddur…”
Similarly, in the weeks before her passing, she was busy making plans for Sukkos and how they would extend the porch of their house and “Iy”H, when I get better, we will also have to fix the bathroom.”
She was holding on by a thread, but she believed with emunah peshutah that yeshuas Hashem ke’heref ayin. She so believed it that everyone around her believed it as well.
When she returned home right before Pesach from the rehab, the family set up a hospital room on the main floor. She could barely walk, and she could not move her arm as her shoulder was broken and her arm was in a sling.
When her friend asked her, “What about surgery on the shoulder?” she answered, “I really do need surgery, but if I do the surgery, I will have to stop the chemo for two weeks before and two weeks after. The doctors feel it is not justified.”
“But,” she concluded completely at peace with her suffering, “this is clearly what Hashem wants. Therefore, I cannot do the surgery.”
She accepted whatever Hashem was sending her way with love. She serenely felt that she was in Hashem’s embrace, and she thanked Him for it.
Her daughter once watched in awe. Her mother, who had always been such a doer, a person who accomplished so much, was determined to make her way slowly across the playroom at least once a day, despite the difficulty involved.
She watched as her mother took her special walker that was possible for her to maneuver despite the inability to use her left arm. She watched as her mother took step after painful step, exclaiming in joy, “Wow!” with every step she took, “Wow! I am taking one step, another…”
It took her ten minutes to walk across the playroom and she appreciated each step!
Sometime during her medical journey, before she lost the use of her hand, she undertook to keep a diary detailing one hundred things for which she could thank Hashem every day!
She knew things weren’t looking good. She knew that the doctors said the cancer was all over and there was nothing more they could do. She knew that she had pain throughout her body. But she also knew that this was her avodah!! And she worked very hard; she fought. Her mantra became, “I am going to see how Hashem is soooo good to me!” She fought to be happy, and she really was happy!! She maintained simcha and positivity… and even bought herself a new sheitel!”
And she truly believed that Hashem was the Kol Yachol and could heal her. She would tell her sister that she felt Ein Od Milvado. Hashem was with her throughout. Her avodah was real. She put so much effort into not just being sovel her yissurim but accepting them with ahavah, with the sincerest belief that this is what Hashem wanted from her now.
She was completely at peace with Hashem’s plan for her and told relatives and friends that she was not scared of death. If that is what Hashem wanted for her, it was good.
And yet, she was so regular.
It was only after the shivah that her brother exclaimed, “I will have a new appreciation when I daven Modim! I will thank Hashem for having had such a sister!”
As time went on, her strength was waning, but her spirits remained upbeat. No one sensed that her end was near. A few months before her petirah, her sister Chayala had a sister-in-law who was getting married. “I wanted Rochel Leah’s opinion on a gown. I did not hesitate to call and she agreed that she hoped to be able to accompany me ‘next Thursday.’ In all truth, she probably had appointments, she was probably not up to coming, and her leg was dragging, but she wanted to make me feel good. She came, she commented, she gave her opinion….”
Two weeks before her petirah, things were deteriorating but her twelfth-grade daughter, Malky, had her graduation trip. She knew her mother was very sick, but she had imbibed her mother’s strength and spirit, so she was willing to go on the trip. Her father told her to take a cell phone just in case. Ultimately, they did have to call her to come home.
When she returned, Mrs. Ginsburg was being hooked up to a respirator and could barely talk. The last thing she said was, “How was the trip?”
“My sister was so caught off guard! She had been called home early, things were clearly not great and what exactly should she answer to her mother, ‘fun??’”
Erev Shabbos Parshas Beha’aloscha
Throughout the years, Mrs. Ginsburg loved Shabbos and prepared for Shabbos early. Her table was set down to the last detail every Thursday night and she was ready for Shabbos around chatzos. She did not believe in throwing in another kugel, another cake if it would mean being ready later.
At the shivah, someone who had been the Ginsburg’s tenant for six years, told Rabbi Ginsburg, “Ever since we lived downstairs from you and my wife saw how beautifully your wife set the table for Shabbos on Thursday night, she does the same thing!”
Shabbos was the highlight of her week. During her ordeal, the family decided that if anything happened, they would not allow it to affect Shabbos. Their wife and mother would not have wanted it to.
Beginning on Thursday before Shabbos Parshas Beha’aloscha, family gathered in her hospital room. There was a minyan around her bed. They recited the pesukim that are recommended to say before a petirah. Her father spoke and then, the people in the room burst into song!
On Erev Shabbos, as well, song filled the room.
Everyone knew what was happening.
Everyone understood that the end was near, but everyone had absorbed her message. Yes, she was a normal, regular person. She was not a rebbetzin. Yet, she had so happily, so serenely accepted her yissurim without complaint, she had so accepted that her life was a matanah that the people closest to her were aroused to singing at the time of the yetzias haneshomah! A true maamad!
A short time before licht-bentching, her husband’s phone rang. It was his daughter wanting to wish him “ah gut Shabbos.” However, he realized the end was imminent, so he asked if he could call her back in a few minutes.
When he called her back to say he was coming home, she knew exactly what had happened. The neshomah of her mother, who had so loved Shabbos, was taken back to her beloved Father in Heaven just as Shabbos was descending on Lakewood.
When he did return home, a neighbor was standing outside, and he asked for water without offering any other information. He washed his hands and went inside. He reminded his family of their decision – that for the sake of their mother’s neshomah, they would fulfill her wishes and celebrate Shabbos without any mourning!
Not a tear was shed that Shabbos.
The next week, on Friday afternoon, Misaskim came to remove the shivah items. Together with relatives and friends, they worked to get the house ready for Shabbos – they put the table back, and set the table with all her finery, chargers, stemware, china, and a stunning vase they filled with flowers. In short order, the house was ready, exactly as Mrs. Ginsburg would have wanted.
She had created a home of avodah, a home where you do what Hashem wants, and her wonderful husband and children are following in her footsteps.
Yehi zichrah boruch.
