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Calligraphy
Breit had stopped walking to face Dovi. “Actually, you didn’t choose this, you were born into it. I married into this though, so I did this to myself”

By Dov Haller

Calligraphy
It’s a simchah, it’s a baby, a son for him and Batya. So what if the word son rips his heart clean in two, so what if his insides wrench from the pain of it

By Rochel Samet

Calligraphy
Miri answered as succinctly as possible. She was here to uncover a fraudster, not examine her innermost self

By Leora Klinberg

Calligraphy
"Yidden are givers, Yidden are generous, just speak to their hearts and they’ll open their pockets. Why doesn’t Motti realize that?”

By Blimi Rabinowitz

Calligraphy
This was an emergency. My mind raced. It could be nothing. It could be something. It could be congenital or genetic. Or then again, it could be nothing

By Chanie Spira

Calligraphy
She couldn’t have imagined how successful her channel would become, and that frightened her more than she would admit

By Ariella Schiller

Calligraphy
For one second, an avalanche of questions: What would Ahrele do? Where would he go? Could he ever go back to the way things were? And from there?

By Rivka Streicher

Calligraphy
So now I’m the poor friend receiving her tzedakah, when just a year ago I was the one helping her?

By Gila Arnold

Eyes That Saw Angels
Venerable individuals still among us share their recollections of personal encounters with yesteryear's giants

By Dovi Safier and Yehuda Geberer

Magazine Feature
Freeze frames from a year of remote communication, virtual connections, and way too much time spent talking through screens

By Mishpacha Contributors

Family Tempo
 It cannot be. Even when he goes outside and the woman calls his name he does not believe it is them. He looks at the children. A boy, perhaps six years old, with long peyos. A li ...

By Leah Gebber

Eyes That Saw Angels
Venerable individuals still among us share their recollections of personal encounters with yesteryear's giants

By Dovi Safier and Yehuda Geberer

Magazine Feature
The thousands who came to Rav Steinman's home were unaware that upstairs, Rav Yitzchak Grodzinski’s modest demeanor hid the splendor of the last prince of Slabodka

By Gedalia Guttentag

Dream On
Yehuda sat down slowly, his jaw tense. “This girl doesn’t have her own room to sleep in? Why is she coming here at two in the morning?”

By Gila Arnold