It had been a long, sleepless night for Shira. Glancing once again at the crib where Aaron slept fitfully, she hurried her other children out the door to school. "Goodbye, have a nice day, learn well," she called out as she smiled and waved.

She sighed as she closed the door, and rushed to the phone to call an ambulance. The signs were familiar; Shira knew them all too well. Aaron's belabored breathing, high fever and poor color told her all too clearly that he had another serious case of pneumonia. The paramedics arrived quickly, and rushed in to Aaron's room, where Shira was administering oxygen. The paramedics took once glance and said, "Let's go."

"Don't you want to check his saturation?" Shira asked.

"No need, look at him. Keep that oxygen mask on and let's go."

The ambulance rushed through the streets of Jerusalem. Shira somehow managed to call her husband and ask him to meet her in the emergency room. "Do you need anything?" Eli asked with concern. "No, I grabbed diapers and a siddur on the way out the door - you know what, maybe a bottle of water. Thanks. See you soon."

Shira and Eli are no strangers to hospitals. Aaron had been born with physical and mental disabilities. A structural anomaly in his trachea, coupled with a poor immune system further weakened by his medication, made him a ripe candidate for recurrent respiratory infections. Sometimes it could be handled from home. And sometimes it couldn't. Shira knew how dry the air was in hospitals. She was glad she remembered to ask for water. It never occurred to her to ask for food.

Aaron didn't particularly like the oxygen mask held over his face, but was too weak to protest. The ambulance reached the hospital within minutes. Whisking Aaron to the emergency room, the paramedic watched as the staff stabilized him before sending him upstairs to pediatric emergency. Once there, Eli and Shira filled the doctor in on Aaron's medical history, and the staff began their examination and started carrying out the standard tests. The results of x-rays and blood tests came as no surprise. Elevated white blood cell count, dehydration, low oxygen saturation, and an ominous white cloud on his lung x-ray all indicated that, once again, Aaron had pneumonia.

The hospital staff administered medication to lower Aaron's fever and to help open up his clogged airways, inserted IVs for fluids and antibiotics, and attached him to probes to monitor his heart rate and oxygen saturation levels. There was nothing to do now but wait for a room to become available. The pulmonalogist came by, to check up on Aaron's progress. "I know this boy," he told the staff as he smiled. "He'll be ok."

"With G-d's help," Shira and Eli prayed, "He'll be OK." Their thoughts were on him when suddenly Shira glanced at her watch. It was getting late. "Eli, Aaron is stable now - he'll probably sleep for a long time. Maybe go home and try to rest a bit until the kids come home, and then you'll be there to tell them what happened and to give them lunch." Eli agreed, and with a heavy heart started to head home. Within moments he was back, carrying two hot meals.

"The volunteer from Ezer Mizion just came by. She wanted to make sure that we eat. You need you strength. Here." He passed her a tray. "Eat something, Shira," Eli urged, "or that lady out there will come feed you." Eli and Shira laughed, for the first time that day, and as Aaron slept, Shira sat down to relax a bit and eat.

Every day of that cold rainy week, while Aaron slowly improved, the Ezer Mizion volunteers came, cheerfully offering Shira a choice of hot meals. "One day, when Aaron was feeling better, I took him out to play in a big toy house in the hallway," Shira recalls. "The volunteer saw the oxygen tank and realized someone must be in there. She poked her head in and found me. 'Would you like lunch here,' she offered, 'or would you prefer that I drop it off in the room?'"

"It was a lifesaver for me," Shira later said. "I knew from experience that I needed to take care of myself while Aaron is hospitalized, but I didn't have the energy to do it. Lottie's Kitchen did it for me."

Aaron is home now, enjoying playing with his siblings and attending nursery school. Eli and Shira have no words to thank the volunteer staff of Lottie's Kitchen, except to bless them that they themselves never have to know what a tremendous help they are. Shira is more than happy to be doing the cooking again, but she hasn't forgotten the kindness of Ezer Mizion. Although she hopes never to have to receive meals from Lottie's Kitchen again, she is happy that Ezer Mizion will continue to be a part of Aaron's life: next summer, Aaron will attend Camp B'Lev Sameach, Ezer Mizion's summer camp for children will special needs.