In the middle of Friday night dinner, my seven-year-old son suddenly looked up from his bowl of chicken soup. “Ima, what are the boys eating for Shabbos? How will they get Shabbos food?” And for a moment there was just complete silence at the table as our thoughts returned to the three kidnapped boys. I looked helplessly at my husband, waiting for him to answer my son who looked like he was near tears.
“Hashem (God) is with them on Shabbos,” my husband replied. “He never left them.”
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