Wednesday afternoon 2:15 p.m.
"Hello, is this Avner? This is Mrs. Feldman speaking. I am
calling to confirm that you will pick us up at 4:30 on
Friday afternoon. Yes, that's right, we're going to Beit
Shemesh. Fine. We'll be waiting for you outside."
Leah Feldman replaced the receiver and glanced at the list
of things that she still had to do that day. With a sigh of
relief, she ticked off "arrange transportation to
Devora's house." She found it difficult to be on her own
with the kids for Shabbos when her husband, Moshe, was away.
The Shabbos invitation from her friend had been gratefully
and promptly accepted.
Friday afternoon 4:25 p.m.
Leah lugged the oversized suitcase down the stairs, leaving
it resting beside the curb. Assorted bags, the baby's
stroller and a huge bunch of flowers lay in a heap. She
wiped her perspiring forehead and straightened her
sheitel.
"Rivky, Shifra, everyone here? Who has the baby? Mordechai,
Yitzy, Elchanan, please stop running around. You'll get your
Shabbos pants dirty. The driver will be here any minute.
Just sit down and relax, kids."
The minutes ticked by slowly as the Feldman family waited in
the scorching Jerusalem afternoon sun. "Ima, I'm thirsty.
Give me a drink," begged Yitzy, pulling on her mother's
hand. "Me, too. I want some juice," chimed in the other
children, their flaces flushed.
"Shifra, run upstairs and bring two bottles of cold water
and some plastic cups. Mordechai, I want you to call the
driver and see how much longer he'll be," directed Leah,
upset by the delay. Glancing at her watch, she realized that
the driver was already almost half an hour late. Gritting
her teeth, she tried to remain calm, as she soothed her
miserable children.
Friday afternoon 5:17 p.m.
"This is crazy," fumed Leah. "He's almost an hour late and
he still isn't answering his cell phone. We can't wait any
longer. I had better call Devora and tell her we won't be
coming."
A chorus of groans greeted her statement. "Ima, we don't
have any food at home," Elchanan pointed out reasonably.
"What will we eat? We don't even have any challa in
the freezer and the stores are closed." A pall of gloom hung
over the entire group. Leah had visions of approaching the
neighborhood food gemachim for some soup and chicken
for her hungry family. Maybe I could farm them out to
different families here for the meals, she mused. Her
thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a shout from her
daughter who had gone upstairs for another drink.
"Ima, Devora's husband is on the phone. He wants to know
what's happening. What should I tell him?" Leah trudged
wearily upstairs, drained and exhausted.
"I was so organized. I can't believe that this is happening
to me, Menachem. It's too late to order another van. Maybe
we should just stay here and scrounge up some food from the
neighbors."
She sighed heavily, her body slumped in the chair. Suddenly
she jumped up, eyes shining. "Really! You would do that?
That would be wonderful. Will you have enough time? Yes,
thank you so much!" Leah danced around the room, an enormous
grin on her face. "Kids, we're going to Beit Shemesh after
all. Devora's husband is borrowing his friend's van and
coming to get us right now."
Whooping and cheering wildly, the children ran and skipped
through the apartment. "We're going, we're going!" they
chanted happily.
Friday night 8:00 p.m.
"I don't know what I would have done if Menachem hadn't come
to our rescue. Honestly, when he came driving up in that
battered old van, all I could think of was a knight riding
on a magnificent steed, coming to save us from a dire fate!"
The two friends giggled together companionably. Settled
leisurely on the couch, Leah could finally relax and even
laugh about her unpleasant experience that afternoon.
"I wonder why he didn't come, or even call to tell you that
something had happened," wondered Devora aloud. "Let's be
dan lekaf zechus. Maybe his wife went into labor and
he had to rush her to the hospital. Naturally, he would
forget about picking you up."
"You're right. Maybe there was an emergency and he wasn't
able to contact me. That would explain why he didn't answer
his phone, either. Boruch Hashem, we're here now and
we can enjoy Shabbos. And I can tell you, your food tastes
infinitely better than the tuna I had visions of
serving!"
Motzaei Shabbos 10:00 p.m.
Leah reached for the telephone, uncertain of her next move.
Arriving home on motzaei Shabbos with a van ordered
from Beit Shemesh, she had quickly unpacked and put her
exhausted but happy children to bed. Relaxing with a quiet
cup of tea, she considered calling Avner to discover why he
had failed to show up on Friday.
"What's the difference? We got there. Hashem took care of
us, didn't He?" she thought to herself.
"But he really should have called to apologize, even after
Shabbos," a stubborn voice inside her argued.
She recalled bits of her conversation with Devora. Judging
favorably had seemed easy to do when chuckling on the couch
with her friend, wrapped in the peacefulness and security of
Shabbos.
Leah drew her hand back and said in her mind, "Never mind,
Avner. Mazel tov. I hope your wife had an easy
delivery..."
A warm glow suffused her, reminiscent of the glow she had
felt on Shabbos, secure in Hashem's caring hands...
