There are moments in life that feel irreversible. A child drifts away, a relationship fractures, a struggle seems endless. Parents watch their children face challenges, mental health struggles, rejection, inner turmoil, and wonder if things will ever turn around. Purim is a story of hidden miracles, of darkness turning into light. But what does that mean for parents facing struggles that seem never-ending?
A mother sits awake at 2 a.m., staring at her phone, hoping for a text that never comes. A father watches his son walk out the door, not knowing if he’ll return. The questions are relentless: Did I do enough? Will things ever change? Where is Hashem in all of this? The pain of not knowing the outcome, of pouring in love, effort, and sacrifice without seeing results, can feel overwhelming.
But Purim, more than any other holiday, offers a profound answer to this uncertainty. The story of Megillat Esther is not just a tale of historical survival, it is a blueprint for navigating life’s hardest moments.
It teaches us that what seems like an ending is often the beginning of something greater. That a decree is never final, darkness is never absolute, and no story is ever truly over.
The phrase Venahafoch Hu, "everything was turned upside down", reminds us that even when Hashem’s presence is hidden, He is still guiding the story. Even when the path ahead feels unclear, redemption is already in motion.
And most importantly, the effort we put in does matter, even when we do not yet see the results.
The Hidden Within the Story
"Unlike Yetziat Mitzrayim, where thunderous miracles split the sea and reshaped history before the eyes of an entire nation, Purim’s salvation happened in whispers, in coincidences that didn’t seem miraculous at all. No plagues fell from the sky, no fire descended from heaven. And yet, beneath the surface, a divine plan was unfolding all along."
Purim is unique among Jewish redemptions. Unlike Yetziat Mitzrayim, where Hashem revealed Himself through open miracles, Purim unfolds under a veil of hester panim, divine concealment. Hashem’s name does not appear even once in the Megillah, yet His presence is woven into every moment of the story. This is no accident—it is the essence of Purim itself.
The Vilna Gaon explains that whenever the Megillah refers to HaMelech (the King) without Achashverosh, it is an allusion to Hashem. Though His presence is hidden, He is the true King directing the events behind the scenes. The Talmud (Chullin 139b) hints at this idea, teaching that Esther is hidden in the Torah in the verse “V’anochi hastir astir panai”, I will surely hide My face. Purim is the story of that hidden face, of miracles masked as coincidence, of divine intervention that only becomes clear in hindsight.
The Maharal of Prague (Ohr Chadash, Purim) expands on this, explaining that what appears as chaos is actually divine order in disguise. We experience life as a series of scattered puzzle pieces, pain, loss, confusion. But imagine looking at a tapestry from the back: the knots, the tangled threads, the seemingly random stitches. It’s only when you turn it around that you see the masterpiece.
The Sfat Emet adds that within every moment of suffering, Hashem plants the seed of future salvation. The very darkness that seems to engulf us holds the potential for the greatest transformation. This is why Purim is the only chag that will never be nullified (Midrash Mishlei 9:2), because it represents the eternal truth that even in the depths of despair, salvation is waiting to emerge.
Jewish history is filled with moments where what seemed like destruction was really the first step toward redemption. Yosef sat alone in an Egyptian prison, falsely accused and abandoned. Moshe fled to the wilderness, his dreams seemingly shattered. Dovid hid in caves, hunted and rejected. Yet each of them discovered that their suffering was not an end, it was the doorway to their greatest calling.
What seems like a downfall is often just the prologue to a redemption we cannot yet see. The very moments of struggle may be the puzzle pieces of a greater Venahafoch Hu—one that will one day come into perfect focus, revealing the divine masterpiece that was there all along.
The Illusion of Control and the Power of Trust
"A mother watches her teenage son walk out the door, unsure when, or if, he will return. A father sits by his phone, waiting for a call that never comes. They’ve done everything they can—given advice, set rules, poured out their love—but nothing guarantees the outcome. The hardest part of parenting is realizing that, despite our best efforts, we cannot control the journey our children take. And perhaps, that was never our role to begin with."
One of the greatest challenges in life is the illusion of control. We plan, prepare, and strategize, believing we can dictate outcomes—but Purim shatters this illusion. No one in the Purim story had control. The Jewish people were at the mercy of a tyrant’s decree, Esther was thrust into a role she never wanted, and Mordechai had no assurance that his resistance would succeed. Yet, from behind the scenes, Hashem was orchestrating every moment.
Esther’s journey is a lesson in trust. At first, she was hesitant—terrified, even. The Midrash (Esther Rabbah 8:7) tells us that when she stepped into Achashverosh’s chamber, she felt the Shechinah leave her and cried out, "Keili Keili lama azavtani?"—My God, my God, why have You forsaken me? In that moment of darkness, she had a choice: retreat in fear or step forward in faith. Mordechai’s words, “Perhaps it was for this very moment that you became queen” (Esther 4:14), forced her to act—even without clarity. She had to let go of her fear and trust that Hashem was guiding her steps.
Rabbi Dessler (Michtav MeEliyahu) teaches that bitachon (trust in Hashem) is not the belief that everything will turn out the way we want—it is the certainty that Hashem is present, no matter the outcome. Trust is not about controlling events but about knowing that we are never abandoned. This lesson is crucial for parents. Every parent wishes they could guarantee success for their child. They invest time, energy, and love—yet there is no certainty that things will unfold as they hope. The hardest part of parenting is learning to plant seeds without knowing when, or if, they will bloom. But perhaps that is exactly how Hashem designed the process.
A farmer does not plant a seed and dig it up each day to check if it is growing, he waters it, protects it, and trusts that beneath the soil, something is happening. Like Esther, parents must take action even without guarantees, believing that the love and guidance they pour into their children will one day take root, even if they cannot yet see it.
But trusting in Hashem does not mean passively accepting despair. Rather, it means understanding that our perception is often limited, and that what seems like an ending may actually be a beginning. Just as Esther could not see the full picture when she stepped into the king’s chamber, we too may not realize that moments of darkness are actually paving the way for transformation.
The Reversal of Perception: How We See vs. How Hashem Sees
"A man stands before a palace wall, staring at what appears to be a dead-end. He sees no gate, no path forward,only an unscalable barrier. But inside, beyond his line of sight, a door is opening, a passageway is being prepared. He just doesn’t know it yet. This is the story of Purim. The Jews of Shushan believed their fate was sealed, yet behind the scenes, the reversal was already in motion."
Another theme of Purim is the gap between human perception and divine reality. The Jews of Shushan believed they were trapped, that their destruction was inevitable. But Hashem was already setting their salvation into motion, arranging the details of their redemption in ways they could not yet see.
Rabbi Nachman of Breslov teaches that the greatest trick of the yetzer hara is making us feel like we are failing, when in truth, every step, even a struggle, is progress. The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 85:3) tells us that when Yosef was thrown into the pit by his brothers, he saw only darkness. But while he felt abandoned, Hashem was already setting events into motion, leading him to become second-in-command of Egypt, the very person who would save his family. The turning point was happening, even as Yosef believed he had been cast aside. What we perceive as setbacks are often steps forward in disguise.
This is not just a spiritual concept; it is proven in neuroscience. Studies show that the brain rewires itself through difficulty. Every challenge forces the brain to build new neural connections, increasing resilience. This is why athletes push their bodies to the limit in training, each strain, each repetition makes them stronger. It is why muscles must break down before they rebuild. Growth happens even when it is invisible. This means that when a child is struggling, even the smallest signs of resilience, getting out of bed, engaging in a short conversation, are significant victories that show their inner strength is developing. Parents may not always see dramatic changes overnight, but every moment of effort, no matter how small, is part of their child’s internal growth process. Just as in the Purim story, where hidden miracles were unfolding beneath the surface, so too, every small step a child takes is part of a larger transformation.
Parents often feel that their efforts are not making an impact. A child who resists, withdraws, or struggles can make a parent feel like all their work is futile. But just like in the Purim story, where things looked bleak but were shifting beneath the surface, the seeds parents plant are taking root, even when they don’t see immediate results.
It is like a seed buried deep underground. From above, the soil looks undisturbed, silent, lifeless. But beneath, roots are spreading, growth is happening. One day, the seed will break through, and only then will the parent realize that the process was working all along.
The Power of Community: No One Fights Alone
"A father walks into shul on Purim night, surrounded by people singing and dancing, but inside, he feels utterly alone. No one knows the pain he carries, the worry, the sleepless nights, the quiet prayers for a child who is struggling. He smiles, gives mishloach manot, but inside, he wonders: does anyone truly see me? Too often, parents bear their struggles in silence, believing no one will understand. But Purim teaches us that redemption does not happen in isolation. The Jews of Shushan were not saved because of one person’s righteousness alone, they were saved because they united as a people."
One of the most powerful lessons of Purim is that redemption does not happen in isolation. The Jews of Shushan were not saved because of one person’s righteousness alone, they were saved because they united as a people. Mordechai’s first response to Haman’s decree was not just to seek Esther’s intervention, but to gather the Jewish people together (lech kenos et kol haYehudim) in prayer, fasting, and mutual support. The Midrash (Esther Rabbah 7:13) explains that Haman’s decree was not just a physical threat, it was a spiritual wake-up call. The Jews had become disconnected from one another, and their survival depended on reclaiming their unity. Only when they stood together did Hashem overturn the decree.
This message is especially important for parents facing the painful and often lonely journey of raising a struggling child. Too often, parents feel they must carry their burden alone, believing that no one else can truly understand. But Purim reminds us that salvation comes through connection—when we reach out, when we lean on others, and when we allow ourselves to be supported.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe teaches that the most dangerous exile is the exile of the individual—when a person feels completely alone in their struggle. The yetzer hara tries to convince parents that their pain is theirs alone, that no one will understand, and that they must figure it all out by themselves. But the Purim story teaches us the opposite: salvation begins the moment we break that isolation and seek out those who will stand beside us.
A mother once shared that for years, she and her husband struggled alone with their son’s challenges. They felt ashamed, afraid of being judged, and convinced that no one else could possibly understand. But the moment they joined a support group, something changed. Just knowing they were not alone, that others had walked this road before them—gave them strength. The circumstances hadn’t yet changed, but they had. And that made all the difference.
In practical terms, this means:
🔹 Finding a support system—a friend, mentor, or community group that offers a listening ear.
🔹 Recognizing that asking for help is not weakness—it is wisdom.
🔹 Building spaces of trust where parents of struggling children can share their fears without judgment.
On Purim, we fulfill the mitzvah of matanot la’evyonim, giving gifts to those in need, not just to provide financial assistance, but to reinforce the idea that no Jew should feel alone. The greatest gift we can give one another, especially parents who are struggling, is the reassurance that they are not alone in their journey.
When Esther approached Achashverosh, she did not go alone, she carried the prayers and unity of her people with her. In the same way, no parent should have to face their struggles alone. The strength of a community can lift even the heaviest burdens, and through that unity, miracles can unfold.
So, if you feel alone in your struggle, reach out. If you know someone who is struggling, stand beside them. Because salvation begins when we turn to one another and say, ‘I see you, I’m with you, you are not alone.’
The Work We Do Matters, Even When We Do Not See It
A mother sits in the darkened hallway outside her child’s room, listening to silence. She wonders if they will ever open up to her again. A father drives past his son’s yeshiva, knowing he won’t find him inside. The days blur together—worry, exhaustion, effort without reward. And the question echoes in their hearts: Am I making a difference? Do my efforts even matter?
For parents of struggling children, there are days that feel endless, filled with worry, uncertainty, and the exhausting cycle of trying, guiding, and seeing little visible change. It is a journey that can feel lonely and even hopeless. When a child withdraws, when they push away love, when progress seems impossible, it is natural to wonder: Am I making a difference? Do my efforts even matter?
Purim offers a resounding answer: Yes. They do.
The Baal Shem Tov teaches that suffering is a levush, a garment that conceals a deeper reality. Just as a Purim mask hides the person beneath, our struggles are often disguising something greater. But a mask does not erase the face beneath it, it only obscures it. Beneath the pain, beneath the uncertainty, something beautiful is still there. Something waiting to be revealed.
Rav Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin (Tzidkat HaTzadik 154) explains that every descent is for the sake of an ascent. It is like an archer pulling back the bow, at first, it seems like a retreat, a step backward. But in reality, the more the bow is drawn back, the farther the arrow will soar. A child’s struggles may feel like a descent, but they are not the final destination. Parents who stand beside their children, who offer support even when it seems rejected, are pulling back the bow, preparing their child for the moment they can rise.
Parents who stand beside their children, who offer support even when it seems rejected, are planting seeds, seeds that may take time to bloom, but will bloom nonetheless.
The darkest nights give birth to the brightest dawns. The longest winters prepare the earth for the most beautiful spring. And just like Purim, when everything seemed lost but was really leading to redemption, your efforts are not in vain.
You are building something real, something lasting. Even if you cannot yet see it.
How to Bring Purim’s Transformation Into Our Lives
Purim is not just a holiday of the past, it is a blueprint for navigating our challenges today. Just as the Jews of Shushan did not see their redemption unfolding until the very end, we, too, often struggle to recognize the hidden miracles in our own lives. Parents of struggling children know this feeling all too well. When the journey is long and uncertain, when hope feels distant, when every effort seems to go unnoticed, it is easy to wonder if anything is changing. But Purim teaches us that hidden does not mean absent, and waiting does not mean wasted.
Even when Hashem’s presence is concealed, He is guiding us every step of the way.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe taught that one of the greatest illusions of exile is the belief that we are alone. But we are never alone. Hashem’s name is missing from the Megillah, yet His presence is in every detail. What looked like a series of disconnected events—a royal banquet, a beauty contest, an overheard conspiracy—was actually a meticulously crafted divine plan.
The same is true in our lives. A parent may not see immediate change in their child, but that does not mean change is not happening. A single moment of kindness, a single act of patience, a single silent tefillah can be the catalyst for transformation that is yet to be revealed. Hashem is present, even when we cannot see Him.
It is easy to have faith when we see results. But what about when we don’t?
The Gemara (Megillah 16b) teaches that suffering itself is a preparation for redemption. It refines, strengthens, and ultimately leads to something greater. The Jews of Shushan did not know how their story would end. The decree of Haman loomed over them, and for months, there was no clear path to salvation. Yet, even in those dark moments, their destiny was already shifting.
A child who seems lost today can find their way back tomorrow. A situation that appears hopeless can turn around in an instant. The story is still unfolding—we must not mistake the middle of the journey for the end. What looks like a setback may be setting the stage for a Venahafoch Hu.
Purim teaches that joy is not just a result of salvation—it is a cause of salvation.
The Gemara states: Mishenichnas Adar Marbin B’Simcha, when Adar begins, we increase joy. But how can we command emotions? Because joy is not just an emotion, it is a tool for transformation.
Neuroscience confirms what the Torah has long taught. Studies show that positivity rewires the brain, building resilience and increasing the ability to adapt to challenges. When parents create an atmosphere of warmth and connection—even in difficult moments—they plant the seeds for eventual healing.
This does not mean ignoring struggles or pretending everything is fine. It means choosing to believe in the possibility of redemption. Just as the Jews of Shushan gathered to celebrate before their salvation was complete, so too, parents must celebrate small victories, find moments of connection, and create joy, even before they see the full picture.
Mordechai told Esther: “Revach v’hatzala ya’amod laYehudim mimakom acher”, salvation will come, one way or another (Esther 4:14).
The hardest part of any journey is the waiting. Waiting for change, waiting for answers, waiting for the seeds we plant to grow. But Mordechai’s message to Esther echoes across generations: salvation will come. Redemption is unfolding, even when we do not yet see it.
Every effort, every moment of love, every tefillah, none of it is wasted.
Parents must remind themselves: the story is not over yet.
A Message of Strength for Every Parent
That Purim night, a father sat beside his teenage son, who had been struggling for months. He placed a mask in his hands and said:
"You don’t have to pretend to be happy. But if you ever feel like you’re wearing a mask in front of us, know that we love you no matter what’s underneath."
The boy didn’t respond. But for the first time in months, he sat at the table for the Purim meal. It was a small step, but it was a step forward.
This is the message of Purim for every parent: No effort is wasted. No love is in vain. No struggle is permanent.
Some days, progress is invisible. Some days, it feels like nothing is changing. But just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. The love you give, the patience you show, the prayers you whisper, they matter.
One day, you will look back and realize: the moments that felt like failure were actually moments of quiet transformation. The nights of worry, the days of uncertainty, they were not for nothing. They were the foundation of something greater.
Until then, hold on. Keep going.
Because every mask will one day be removed.Because every struggle carries within it the seed of redemption.Because even when you don’t see the ending yet, Hashem is writing a story of hope.
One day, when we look back, we will see that the knots and tangled threads were part of a greater masterpiece all along. The struggles that seemed random, the moments that felt unbearable, were all weaving together a story of resilience and redemption. And the story isn’t over yet.
Just as the Purim story turned around when all seemed lost, so too, the struggles we face today may be paving the way for a redemption we cannot yet see. The very moments that feel like defeat may one day reveal themselves as the foundations of our greatest victories. Venahafoch Hu is not just a story of the past—it is the promise of transformation in our own lives. Your story is still unfolding, and the best chapters may be yet to come.
Purim Sameach!!!
Yaakov Lazar, Executive Director
Kol Haneshamot
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