A Place to Call Home

Upbringing

Sara grew up in Gateshead, England, where she was the oldest of nine children in a home that embodied chesed and hachnasas orchim. It was common knowledge that the home of Rav Yehuda Leib Wittler, the mashgiach of Yeshivas Tiferes Yaakov, and his wife, Mrs. Ruchelle Wittler, was open to anyone who needed a place to stay. Sara remembers that there was a lonely Holocaust survivor who would go from house to house collecting pennies and sleeping in people’s garages. When he came to them crying one day after he’d been thrown out of someone’s garage, the Wittlers took him in for three months and allowed him to sleep in their playroom, even though his personal hygiene wasn’t the best. Sara also had a great aunt who lived locally and was confined to a wheelchair. The elderly woman had two children, but they both lived in Israel. Her parents would pick her up every Friday and bring her to their house so she could stay with them for Shabbos.
When Sara was 13 years old, she moved to Manchester to stay with her grandmother, Mrs. Nechama Wittler, who had been suddenly widowed.
“It wasn’t a sacrifice for me. I was very close to my grandmother, and I considered it a privilege. As an inquisitive teenager growing up in a small town, I was trying to figure life out. My grandmother was the most loving and tolerant person I have ever known. She allowed me the freedom and space to be myself and find my own way. She also instilled in me a deep love of Hashem. Looking back, I was the first Bet Nechama girl, as she and her home served the same purpose.”
Sara’s eyes shine when she describes the two years she lived with her grandmother. Her warmth and acceptance allowed Sara to actualize her potential and become the person she is today. Sara’s bubby was known as the “brachos lady” in Manchester because of the beautiful blessings she bestowed upon one and all.

Fostering in the early years

Sara had been living in Kiryat Sefer for seven years when she took in that first child, an emotionally troubled teenage boy. As she explains it, having been raised to do whatever she could to help people in need, she felt compelled to get involved. She and her husband were initially told that all the boy needed was somewhere to dorm because he was attending a local yeshivah, but it turned out that he was very depressed. A few weeks after his arrival, he climbed into bed and refused to get out. Sara remembers hearing noises in the kitchen every night when he would get up to cook food for himself. But with time, patience and a tremendous amount of love, the boy’s emotional state improved and he was able to get a job. Two years later, he was back in yeshivah. It was only in retrospect that Sara realized the extent of the kochos Hashem had given her.
Through word of mouth, more and more people were finding out what Sara was doing. Whenever a call came in, she would assess each case to see if it was a good match. If the young boy or girl was open to being supported by Sara and her family, he or she was welcomed with open arms.
Sara’s husband was totally onboard from the beginning. He would often stay up most of the night learning, so he was available for long, philosophical discussions during those hours. He provided a Torah perspective and proper hashkafos on life, giving the teenagers well-rounded support and guidance. Since Sara was available during the day and her husband at night, there was an almost 24-hour rotation of an adult ready to help the teens.
For the next few years, they had up to three children living in their home at a time. Sometimes they would host them for only a few days, but usually they stayed for anywhere from three months to two years. Sara was in touch with the parents whenever possible, listening to their recommendations and crafting a treatment plan together. If these discussions couldn’t happen, she would use her intuition to provide the teen with whatever he or she needed physically, spiritually and emotionally.
I asked Sara how her children felt about having a steady stream of strangers in the house. She admits that it was sometimes hard for them. Aside from taking up their parents’ precious time, the troubled teens would often cause them embarrassment. Some teenagers had meltdowns in the middle of the street, while others did not always dress appropriately.
“For the most part, they readily shared their space and their parents’ attention. I have a lot of respect and admiration for my children, because I know it wasn’t easy. They would sometimes be told at the last minute that they had to switch rooms to accommodate a new child, or that I had to rearrange my schedule to take care of someone. But they always made the girls and boys feel like they belonged, and they’re still in touch with many of them.”
Sara would explain to her children that not many people were capable of caring for teenagers like they were, which was why these troubled teens often felt neglected and sad. Although she always validated her children’s emotions, she stressed what a special mitzvah it was, how fortunate they were to be capable of doing such a difficult thing, and how they would be rewarded one day for caring for Hashem’s children.
When her own children became teenagers, however, some started speaking negatively about the other kids in the home, a sign that they were becoming resentful. So she changed the setup and started renting nearby apartments where girls between the ages of 18 and 22 could live semi-independently. She would help them shop, cook, find a job and a therapist, and they were welcome to hang out in her house and eat their Shabbos meals there. They felt part of the family, but there were more boundaries than before, and Sara might ask someone not to visit if her kids had just gotten home from school or there was some other reason she needed to focus on them.
“My oldest child is now 23 and the youngest is eight. They are all kind and giving individuals, taking the initiative to help whenever they see others in pain. I am very proud of how they developed resilience and empathy,” she says.
Sara concedes that it was sometimes hard. Working, raising children, having small infants to care for, and all of the usual ups and downs of daily life were even more challenging with a needy teenager living in her home, sapping much of her energy. Some of the teens would refuse to cooperate, show signs of emotional and mental distress that required professional help, or engage in activities that were harmful. But throughout it all, Sara felt that Hashem had entrusted her with a mission, regardless of how difficult it might be. Of course, her first responsibility was to her own children, so if having a certain child in her home didn’t work out, she would help him or her find a different place to live. Nonetheless, she never gave up on anyone.
Once they started to form a connection with Sara, many of the emotionally troubled young people would experience something psychologists call “transference,” leading them to direct the anger, resentment and hatred they had for the adults in their early lives against her. She admits that staying grounded and centered when they lashed out was extremely difficult. Some of them would write “hate notes” and leave them around for her to see. Sara made it a rule to never respond immediately. Instead, she would wait until the boy or girl was calm and then explain that the anger was coming from a previous trauma that had been triggered. They usually appreciated this insight and were receptive to her guidance.
One time, a girl took all of her belongings down to the busy lobby of their apartment building and plopped herself down on the floor, as if Sara had thrown her out. It was embarrassing for the family, but they had to swallow the humiliation and continue to help her.
But there was no doubt that Sara had a special touch. Late one Friday night, she and her family were taking a walk around the neighborhood when they saw a police car with a big crowd gathered around it. It turned out that a 15-year-old girl had run away from her foster home; she was in the basement of the building and was refusing to come out. Sara asked if she could talk to the girl. The police just shrugged, so she went downstairs and introduced herself. Although the girl didn’t make eye contact, Sara could tell that she was listening. Sara said, “I don’t know you or what your story is, but you look like a wonderful and intelligent girl. You’re obviously in a lot of pain, and I want you to know that you deserve to be listened to, understood and validated. You don’t have to share anything with me, but it makes me sad to see a beautiful girl like you all alone in the middle of the night. You are welcome to sleep in my house tonight, and we’ll figure something out in the morning.”
Sara turned around and went up the stairs, trusting that the girl would follow her—and she did. “When we walked out of the building,” Sara says, “everyone looked at me as if I was some kind of miracle worker. But I didn’t do anything miraculous; all I did was take the time to connect with her and speak directly to her heart.”
The police allowed Sara to take the girl home. On the way there, the girl’s foster mother whispered to Sara that she often escaped, so the doors and windows had to always be locked. The girl stayed with Sara and her family for a year—and the windows and doors were never locked. It was not an easy year. The girl had suffered years of abuse and neglect. Her parents were emotionally limited, and by the time she arrived in Sara’s house she wasn’t on speaking terms with them. She was in so much pain that she would sit and cry for hours, unable to verbalize her intense feelings. Sara often sat with her until she calmed down.
The girl eventually moved to a dorm, and as had happened with many others, Sara’s relationship with her only got stronger and closer. A few years later, Sara helped marry her off, and then she was her labor coach for her first baby. Today, she is a happily married young woman with five kids, raising a beautiful family and running a successful business.
Sara advises parents, askanim and anyone else who helps young people find a home to always be honest and tell the full truth to everyone involved. She has had a handful of experiences where people weren’t clear about the child’s struggles, leaving her with a teenager who needed hospitalization, had a history of violence or simply wasn’t a suitable match for her home. She eventually learned to ask for doctors’ reports, full disclosure of all medications and permission to speak to the child’s therapist before allowing him or her into her house.
And the honesty and openness was a two-way street. “Whenever someone new came to my house, I always gave the same introduction. I would explain that living with other people can sometimes be challenging, so there had to be ground rules in order to live together successfully. I also encouraged them to tell the truth, even if it was awkward. I would never tell a girl that I loved having her in my house and then complain about her behind her back. I clarified that they would always know where I stand. I wouldn’t hide anything from them.”
Sara also reassured them that they could share anything with her without worrying about the consequences, and if verbalizing something was too difficult, they could write it down. This helped build trust and prevented them from bottling up their emotions and then suddenly exploding.
Sara asserts that she didn’t always know how to respond when teenagers shared something that was surprising or even hurtful, but she always asked Hashem for the right words, and she was often surprised when she could see them resonate.
One particular girl who had stayed in her home as a teenager called her five years later, saying that she no longer wanted to live. She told Sara that she was calling her because she knew she was the only person in the world who would support her decision, no matter what.
“I was put on the spot,” Sarah says. “She had put her trust in me, but how could I tell her that I would support her if she wanted to end her life?”
Sara spoke to the girl briefly until the right words came to her. She told her that she would always support her, as she had promised. However, she added that she wanted the decision to be made in a rational and calm state of mind. The decision to end her life, Sara asserted, was probably the result of tremendous pain, which clouded her ability to be objective. They had a long conversation, and baruch Hashem, the girl changed her mind.
There were also times when Sara was conflicted about whether or not she was doing the right thing. A 16-year-old girl she was mentoring was spending a lot of time away from the home, hanging out in mixed company. Sara spent many hours discussing codependency, relationships and marriage. But as time passed, she realized that her words were not having an effect. She wondered if talking to the girl so much about the topic was somehow legitimizing her behavior.
“I was very unsure of what to do. I thought about it for a few days until I realized that I could only offer support and honest feedback; what she chose to do with that information was up to her.”
One day, out of the blue, the girl forwarded a message she had sent to someone in which she said that she was breaking off their relationship and, going forward, she would be only dating for the purpose of marriage, which was not something she was ready for. The letter was surprisingly mature and sophisticated, and for Sara, totally unexpected. The following is an excerpt:
“Right now, I am clear that what I am looking for is the stability and comfort that only marriage can give me, which is something I feel that I am still too young for. I refuse to settle for anything less than that. I am choosing to give up my short-term happiness for an investment in a lasting relationship in the future with my bashert. May Hashem guide us on our own individual journeys.”
Sara believes that every teen struggles with something, but when young people see the adults in their lives avoid confronting their own issues, it sends the message that uncomfortable feelings should be hidden. Teaching kids to be honest with themselves and others about their challenges is a gift they will cherish for life.
When asked if she was ever afraid that her children would be exposed to negative influences, Sara explains that her husband visited Rav Morgenstern and asked him the same question. His answer was unequivocal: they should continue their holy work. The rav explained that because they had the strength, talent and skills to do this very difficult thing, it was impossible that their children would suffer as a result. In fact, he had noted that when parents are involved in kiruv, their children naturally want to do the same thing. Sara maintains that everything the rav promised came true for her family.
In fact, she illustrates her point by sharing that many of the teenagers, after they felt loved and accepted in her home, instinctively knew not to show the contents of their phones to her children or dress the wrong way in front of them. Once the layers of resistance had been broken through with warmth and acceptance, they became sensitized and wanted to uphold the family’s values.

Bet Nechama

Sadly, after 22 years of marriage and nine children, Sara and her husband divorced. She moved to the Ramot neighborhood of Yerushalayim. It was a difficult change, not only for Sara and her kids but also for the teenagers who were living with them at the time. I asked her how she found the stamina to help these young people when she herself was at such a crossroads. Wasn’t she emotionally depleted by her own struggles?
“Believe it or not, helping others who were in emotional distress was what kept me going. In fact, the more I struggled, the more I was determined to be there for them—and I know that they sensed my sincerity. I often told them that I was a fellow traveler, journeying through life’s difficulties along with everyone else. I was always open and authentic, especially after the divorce, and they appreciated that.”
During the divorce, Sara says she experienced some very difficult moments that were hard to hide. Whether it was appointments at the beis din, moving her family to Ramot on her own, or dropping overwhelmed and in tears onto the couch, the girls witnessed her struggles. Interestingly, they were often emotionally present for her during those times, in a beautiful display of a symbiotic relationship. For girls who felt rejected by society, offering love and support to Sara gave them a sense of purpose. It confirmed that underneath all of the negativity and hostility were sensitive souls filled with compassion and kindness.
It was after Sara’s divorce that she opened Bet Nechama. For the first two years she ran it on her own. Then, in February of this year, Sara got married to Nachshon Vital.
Ten years ago, Nachshon was living in Europe with his non-Jewish wife and children, totally unaware that he was Jewish. After a revelation of his heritage, he embarked on a deep and painful journey to discover Yiddishkeit. He eventually got divorced and moved to Israel.
Today, Sara and Nachshon run Bet Nechama together, and the girls know that they are always welcome in the Vitals’ home. Aside from eating their Shabbos meals there, each girl gets an hour of private time with Sara twice a week, during which they can choose to have a session of craniosacral therapy, go for a spin, sit on her couch to talk or do anything else they enjoy. That way, Sara can balance her busy schedule while the girls know they will soon have her undivided attention.
Working together with the girls’ therapists, parents and employers, Sara makes sure that the residents of Bet Nechama are well adjusted and feel fulfilled. There are only three rules other than the basic house rules necessary for shared living: only girls in the house, no smoking or using substances, and respect must be shown for Shabbos and Yomim Tovim. Sara does a background check to make sure she has the tools to help the potential newcomer, but if everything measures up, the girl is welcomed and embraced.
I spoke to several residents of Bet Nechama, and they all told me the same thing: “Sara saved our lives. She is always there for us without living our lives for us. She allows us to be independent and learn from our mistakes, but she demands that we take responsibility for our choices.”
I asked Sara what her daily schedule looks like these days. She explains that although she has a very detailed daily schedule, she is flexible and knows that things can change at the drop of a hat. She also limits her doula work to two or three births a month because of time constraints.
Sara gets up early in the morning to send her kids off to school. Then she’s off to her clinic and is busy with her various therapies for the next few hours. Monday and Wednesday afternoons are dedicated to quality time with her own children. On other days, she might be shopping with a Bet Nechama girl or helping one out some other way. In the evenings, Sara is either in the hospital helping a woman give birth, giving a parenting workshop, or just spending time at home with her family and the Bet Nechama girls.

Advice for parents and educators

Through her experience, Sara has come across certain triggers that she feels are important to share with parents and educators. Children, especially those who are sensitive, rebel against what they perceive as hypocrisy. Also, the more sensitive the child, the harder he or she takes it when parents and teachers put a greater emphasis on what the child perceives as superficial externals rather than what really counts.
As with everything else in life, honesty and authenticity are essential when raising children. Kids need to trust that their parents aren’t trying to change their behavior in a backhanded way. Being authentic means admitting when you are wrong, and not being afraid of showing vulnerability and acknowledging your own struggles.
“Let’s say that I plan on going to a very chareidi neighborhood with a girl who doesn’t dress modestly,” she says, giving me an example. “I’m not going to start giving her a whole speech about tznius, but I will tell her honestly that I don’t feel comfortable walking around with her when she’s dressed that way. I might even add that perhaps I shouldn’t care, but that’s how I feel. In my experience, when the girls sense that I am being sincere, they happily adjust.”
Sara explains that building a loving relationship with children is dependent on the “five A’s”: attention, acceptance, appreciation, affection, and allowing them to be who they are. “This doesn’t mean that parents shouldn’t set boundaries, give consequences or guide their children to make correct choices. But we need to practice accepting our kids and allowing them to discover their own relationship with Hashem and Yiddishkeit.”
Sara also says that the way she parented her own children was greatly affected by her experiences fostering troubled teens. As she explains it, it made her realize how essential love and acceptance is for children—and that if she didn’t provide it at home, they would search for it elsewhere. She learned to look for everyone’s positive qualities and traits. Of course, parents can do everything right and still have children who struggle, as the results aren’t really up to us.
Sara encourages anyone who thinks she might have the ability to help youngsters in need of a home to reach out to her for guidance.
“I’m not doing anything revolutionary,” Sara insists. “I am simply offering a supportive place where teenagers can feel welcome and cared for until they are emotionally healthy and ready to establish a home of their own.”

Sara Vital can be contacted through Ami.