Grace for Rachel - Survivors Fund

Rivky and I met Rachel 5 years ago @ a shabbat dinner and were immediatly struck by her grace and strength.
Knowing her and her daughter Hannah's story, we felt compelled to do something. 

Please take a moment to read more about her story. Listen with your heart and please help give back to Rachel. 

Thank you for your kindness! Mahalo

Survive:(verb) continue to live or exist, especially in spite of danger or hardship.

A glimpse into her life as told by her mom:

Watching my daughter fight through multiple cancer
diagnoses and grueling treatments the last seven years tore at my gut and broke my heart. But, it also inspired me and all family and friends who walked through
these storms with her, as well as the medical community who frequently commented on her grace, bravery and gratitude. Her spirit has been indomitable. In late 2012, as a nurse unhooked her IV bags, Rachel blasted Handel's Hallelujah Chorus on her Ipad, throughout the infusion center, to signify and celebrate completion of  
her last round of chemo, while a couple of nurses teared up along with us, as we cheered and simultaneously wept with relief, while rushing to get
out of the hospital "before someone changed their mind," and this bad dream continued. Fighting cancer is a daunting battle. The insidious and cunning
nature of the disease gets at your spark if you aren't careful, and this spark is what keeps us alive.

She geared up physically, emotionally and spiritually,
turning to G-d for strength, courage and the grace to face, endure and survive this monster. The mask/ helmet she was strapped into while radiation beamed at her eye, was terrifying, but she was armed with prayer and a playlist. The special chemo cocktail they injected through her spine into her brain altered her perceptions and created terrifying sensations. She trusted.




Today, nearly two-and-a-half years later, Rachel continues her victory dance. But this combination is complex. These last years since finishing chemo haven't been a Sunday matinee. She's had two surgeries to repair her vision and an exploratory, following one of many scares. Her vision has been greatly damaged by the life-saving radiation, and it is a long third act to recovering stamina and a normal life amidst the stress of recurrensces and continual tests, with a backdrop of financial hardship and sleep disturbances. 

This is where you come in. Rachel needs partners to get her through the choppy waters of recovery, as she regains rhythms of everyday life, and the stamina to dance ahead with her musical performances and fashion styling career. She is gracious beyond words, yet lengthy illness can zap resources beyond what one can repair alone, while still on the mend.

Here are Rachel's own words. She is motivated and visionary. Please help her to stand again.
"This week marks two years since the last drip of hissing howling chemo burned its way through my veins. Two years...full of hundreds and thousands of moments, but not one of them taken for granted. I am a time-horder now. I collect seconds, both the sweet and the anxious, sweeping them into piles and clenching them tightly in my fists. I cram free hours into pockets, torn between savoring and devouring. I do not leave the crusts.
These years are streaked with silent, secret tears of relief. I have shouted more than once to no one, alone in my car: I WILL LIVE! When terror lurks, I am louder: I WILL LIVE!! I tilt the mirror to make sure that it's true. I am still here, smiling. Two years. Two years of kissing my daughter.
War is brutal, even triumph comes at a cost. These years have been hard. I gained things- courage, deeper compassion...but I lost things too-innocence, stillness, my aching love is now pressed between white knuckles, two years of wonder, of hope, and of dizzying confusion. I am a veteran. I stand in the rubble where my old life was, dancing in the wreckage, looking for my dreams, in awe of mercy."