I kept those words in a special place, as a sign of a prophecy that would hopefully come true. I’d tell myself, “One day I’ll turn back to this teacher and show her that her words came true.” This kept me going; it was my beacon of light.

That September my daughter started at her new school. The principal was kind, caring, and, most importantly, understanding, and her classmates were sweet.

Every so often, they’d have an off-Shabbos, and she’d come home. Whenever I dropped her off at the bus stop afterward, it felt like a leap of faith, and my heart would constrict. She was a vulnerable young girl going by herself to Port Authority and waiting in the dark for the bus that would take her on to the next leg of her trip. She did have a cell phone, but still, it was petrifying.

Somehow we survived different challenging experiences over the next few years, whether it was my daughter’s personal difficulties or challenges involving the people she boarded with.

My daughter didn’t complete high school, and instead spent a period of time hanging around on the streets, with all that entails. One great thing she had, though, was a fantastic mentor, whom we’ll be forever grateful for. She kept a careful watch on my daughter from a distance, giving her the space she needed.

Slowly but surely our daughter matured and made a monumental decision to go to a seminary in Israel. It proved to be a wonderful growth opportunity for her. The turning point for her was when she went with her seminary to Eastern Europe and started to appreciate what her ancestors had given up for our heritage and our people’s survival.

Suddenly life took on a much deeper meaning, and, like a bud starting to sprout, she developed into a stronger, greater person than we could have ever dreamed of.

I admit it didn’t happen overnight. When she first came home from seminary, she still had her challenges, but she was definitely working on herself, growing every day.

The peak was when she got engaged, and I met up with her eighth grade teacher. I felt like we’d almost come full circle, and I couldn’t wait for the final closing. I went up to her teacher and said, “Your brachah came true!”

She looked puzzled.

“You told me all those years ago, ‘Hazorim b’dimah, b’rinah yiktzoru.’”

What I was saying dawned on her, and we both expressed tremendous gratitude to Hashem that even though it had seemed impossible, not only had hope prevailed, my daughter had, too.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 851)