"Inside the jungle in Thailand, frightened and covered in mud, I cried out for the first time to the Creator of the world"

When Hava Sharon Okashi (54) entered her apartment in Tel Aviv that day, she saw before her eyes an entire kitchen cabinet smashed on the floor: broken glass, shattered dishes, oil and sauce scattered everywhere. Shortly before that, she had been at her father's rehabilitation center. The strong and sturdy man, who had been an anchor for her, was weakening before her eyes since the stroke he suffered, and she felt that her own life was also beginning to fall apart.

"I looked at this scene and understood that this is exactly, but exactly, how my soul feels right now," she says. "On one hand, I was a Tel Avivian, a party-goer, living life. On the other hand, I was suddenly dealing with the most painful fact: life is not taken for granted, and none of us has a way to know when it will change in an instant. A year later my father passed away, and then, in the midst of the mourning, the questions that gave me no rest began to arrive: what is life anyway? Where am I going in my life? What is the purpose of all this?"

Inside the jungle I discovered that I am not alone

Hava Sharon was born in Ness Ziona to a traditional, Yemenite and Iraqi family, in a happy, noisy and warm home. "We had songs on Friday, guests, jachnun on Saturday and a lot of family warmth. But alongside the warmth there were also difficulties. I was a curious child, with a rich inner world and attention and concentration difficulties that were not diagnosed in those days. The message I received at home was mainly to find a steady job and get by in life. Already then I felt that I think differently. In high school I had difficulty fitting in, I didn't do matriculation exams, but it was precisely in the world of work that my abilities were revealed. After the army I worked in office jobs from nine to five, until I understood that I need a place that will challenge me and where I won't be bored. I studied management and event production, and started working in high-budget productions."

A year after her father's death, when she was 30, Hava Sharon felt she had to stop. After months of intensive work, in which she did not really let herself process the loss, she decided to go for a month in Thailand. "I was looking for air, quiet and healing. I met a new friend there and we traveled together. We laughed, enjoyed the beaches and the markets, and one day we were convinced to go on a route to a hidden lagoon."

However, during the stay in the lagoon it started to rain, and the path leading out became muddy, slippery and dangerous. The travelers began to escape from the place, but Hava Sharon had difficulty climbing out and remained behind. "I was very scared. I found myself alone inside the jungle, far from home, from family and from the familiar world. In the midst of the fear I noticed a red string that I had tied a few days earlier during a visit to a Buddhist monastery. Suddenly a cry broke out from me: I am Jewish. What does this string from the monastery have to do with me?"

At that moment, she describes, something inside her changed. "In the midst of the great fear came a feeling of peace and protection. I started talking to the Creator of the world, asking Him to help me get out of there. I also spoke to my father who passed away and I knew he was listening. In retrospect, this was my first hitbodedut (seclusion), even though in those days I still didn't know how to call it by that name. I was at the end of the world, in the midst of fear and mud, and there I discovered that I am not alone."

A Thai rescue team arrived, and Hava Sharon came out of the lagoon covered in mud from head to toe. On the beach, friends were waiting for her, Australians and Israelis, worried and crossing their fingers. "I remember that one of the travelers, the son of a Christian priest, listened to my story and looked at me with a deep gaze. In retrospect, he already understood something that took me another decade to understand officially."

From Tel Aviv to Bnei Brak

The life in Tel Aviv continued to be stormy. The career flourished, but alongside the success she felt loneliness and emptiness. "During this period I was exposed to Jewish content and lessons from rabbis," she recalls.

But the return to religion (teshuva) was not a one-day decision for her. It was a process of learning, lessons, Sabbaths, community and a lot of internal work. "Suddenly I saw how life is conducted in a religious home. Father, mother, quiet, respect and listening. Something in my soul identified what is true. Good people along the way guided me so that I wouldn't run too fast and that I would do everything gradually."

After years of spiritual searching, the relationship also arrived. "I arrived at a lesson on Shabbat Mevarchim, dressed modestly, and there I met Ronit Mashiah, the community matchmaker. Ronit asked how old I am and immediately began to weave the match. She suggested someone a year and a half younger than me, and I told her that I don't intend to lie about my age."

The connection with Dan Yaakov was fast and precise. "We met after Passover and were already married in Elul." After the wedding, the couple moved to Bnei Brak, where they live to this day. They connected to the community and began to build their home and fulfill the next big dream: to be a mom and dad.

Four years of treatments

In the first year of their marriage Hava Sharon became pregnant naturally, but the pregnancy did not last. From here began an arduous journey of four years of fertility treatments. "It was an emotional and hormonal roller coaster, which required me to have great mental strength. I suffered a lot, it was hard for me, and resistances and many fears arose. In the midst of the treatments, the studies of Yemima and the internal connection became my anchor. Music is also a lifeline for me. When I want to reconnect with the 'part of G-d from above', I put on headphones and listen to songs I love, which always open my heart."

She gradually learned to let go of the need to control everything and listen to the inner voice. "The turning point came when I felt I needed to release the absolute dependence on doctors and tests. I understood that only G-d can. I gave space to my desire and prayer to the Creator of the world that I would merit to conceive without treatment."

And then it happened. "I conceived a natural pregnancy. It also didn't go easily. There was a fear of a heart defect, and I was required to be on strict bed rest. After about two weeks of hospitalization in the high-risk pregnancy department, at week 36 labor began. The staff feared a low pulse and prepared me for a cesarean section. I was alone. I was very scared. But when I was on the bed at the entrance to the operating room, the doors opened and I understood that's it, I have no choice but to let go. At that moment I understood clearly that there is none but Him."

Hayale was born weighing 1.920 kg and was rushed to the NICU for intensive care. She underwent many tests, and at a certain stage was transferred to a transition department, like other babies, but the quiet did not last long. "During one of the feedings I noticed that she was very weak and unable to eat. I reported to the staff, and they said they would feed her. I went out to get some air, and when I returned I understood that she was no longer there and that they had transferred her back to the NICU for intensive care. We quickly understood that it was an emergency situation and that she needed surgery. It turned out that there was air in the abdominal cavity and that a heart defect that was not identified caused, apparently, damage to the intestine due to a disruption in blood flow."

The situation became complicated. Hayale had difficulty recovering, and her condition required urgent heart surgery. She underwent a complex surgery to close the ductus, but the heart defect was not fully corrected in the surgery, and she remained for a long time in the pediatric cardiac intensive care unit. "We were around her 24 hours a day, under complete pressure, breathless. She required another surgery which, thank G-d, succeeded, and a solution was found that prevented another surgery in the future, but in the meantime we were required to deal with other medical challenges. On one of the Sabbath nights I felt that something was wrong and I insisted that the doctors examine her. The surgeons were summoned from their homes, and Hayale entered again for emergency surgery on the intestine. We couldn't call anyone because it was Sabbath. We sat and cried, said Psalms and cried out to the Almighty. The surgery was complex and difficult. Hayale lost a lot of blood, and they had to remove a large part of the large intestine. The surgery went successfully."

Hava Sharon, who was recovering herself from a cesarean section, felt that she was acting out of survival. "I have no idea where I had the strength, the resourcefulness and the fortitude. Only from the Creator of the world, who held us in miraculous ways. At the same time, a large community of baalei teshuva prayed without stopping. People took upon themselves prayers and commandments. My sisters strengthened themselves following the story, and my brother-in-law continues to this day to pray and put on tefillin thanks to Hayale.

"My husband would play her nigunim (melodies) of the Baal Shem Tov and read her Psalms by her bedside. I think this added a layer to our relationship: a crisis and coping like this can, G-d forbid, break a relationship, especially when it comes to baalei teshuva who married at a late age. This will always be our challenge. It reminds us that our child is our gift from the Creator, and for her we strive together to do the best."

The personal journey became a mission

After about three months in the hospital the family was released home with a tiny, weak and frightened baby, but with big eyes that capture everyone who looks at them. "The hospitalizations did not end. For two years Hayale was in a complex medical condition, with pneumonia, digestive problems, follow-ups and repeated hospitalizations. I myself experienced a very difficult mental period. Every stay in the hospital I felt like in prison. I felt that I was in another dimension. I cried out to G-d, I cried to Him for days and nights."

When Hayale was two years old, the change arrived. "She entered a rehabilitation daycare in Bnei Brak, and there her rehabilitation journey officially began. She started to walk, develop and flourish."

Step by step she grew and developed and became the vital 9-year-old girl she is today. "She is a charming girl who is connected to the Sabbath, prayer and commandments, and there is great joy of life in her. Every development of hers is for us a reason to thank G-d. We do not take her for granted. Every year on her birthday we celebrate her with many children and see it as a thanksgiving meal for the gift we received."

From this place Hava Sharon turned her personal journey into a mission. Today she accompanies women, mothers and business owners in processes of internal connection, self-confidence, self-worth and faith. "I know both worlds, and therefore I see myself as someone who can connect between people and between worlds. And perhaps precisely after everything I went through, I understand more than anything the answer to the question that started my journey, somewhere there, during the shiva for my father. I learned that the place where a person feels most alone is sometimes precisely the place where he discovers that he was never alone."