Sima's friend Malky phoned late Wednesday night from the
hospital. Nothing life-threatening, and she wouldn't be there
that long, though there was a certain amount of discomfort.
Sima considered. It was way after visiting hours now, but
she'd make sure to get an early start in the morning.
In the morning, however, her reality was very much otherwise.
Things kept coming up: her daughter Zeesel was (at long last)
in the middle of a shidduch, and this time, things
seemed to be moving awfully fast -- as with the speed and
power of a roaring locomotive. There were phone calls back
and forth all morning, questions asked and answered, advice
dispensed. Finally, another date was arranged between Zeesel
and Yitzy for that evening. So that it wasn't till almost
four in the afternoon that Zevy, Sima's husband, borrowed a
neighbor's car and drove her to the bus stop.
"I'd drive you out to the hospital," he said, "but I have to
give this car right back. Just as well. I don't think this
old jalopy could make such a long trip. When do visiting
hours end?"
Sima sighed, already anticipating his reaction. "At five."
"What? So what are you going for? The trip takes an hour, and
it's already almost four!"
Sima said nothing. How could she explain her feeling that it
just wasn't a good idea to keep putting off this
mitzva -- not that it looked like such a major one.
Malky had sounded fine on the phone and after all, she had
parents, relatives, in-laws, and other friends who would
surely be there for her.
Still... it's not my job to put price tags on mitzvos,
Sima reflected. Every mitzva is big. She remembered a
tape of R' Avigdor Miller zt'l about how diamond
factories don't throw away even the dust of the diamonds that
they cut and polish, because diamonds are so precious and
valuable that even their dust is worth a fortune. Besides,
she really wanted to see Malky.
"What's wrong with going early tomorrow morning?" Zevy was
asking.
"Well, for one thing, visiting hours don't begin until
11:30."
Zevy waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I'm sure they'd let you
in. I doubt if they pay any attention to rules and
regulations in the morning. It's just at night that they're
so particular."
But Sima heard a little jingle singing in her head:
Grab a mitzva fast!
Before the time is past!
Hesitate? It's too late!
"Nu," Zevy shrugged. "Here's the bus stop. But if the whole
trip ends up being for nothing, don't say I didn't warn
you."
"Thanks so much for the lift," she answered warmly. "I never
would have had the strength to shlep here, up that long hill,
myself." It was true. Without Zevy's help, this particular
mitzva, major or minor, wouldn't have gotten off the
ground.
So here she was waiting. And waiting. But now it was already
after four. It didn't seem to Sima, from past experience,
that the trip took quite an hour, but even if it took less,
she wouldn't get there much before five. And then she'd have
to locate the right building in the complex, the right floor,
the right room. Did it really pay to make the whole journey --
and then the whole long trip back, for the sake of a few
minutes' visit?
She was pretty tired. The suspense of this shidduch
was taking its emotional toll on all of them. Sima wished
that Zeesel and Yitzy would decide something already.
It wasn't as if she wasn't sure in her own mind whether to go
or not. It was just a question of when. Didn't it make more
sense to go tomorrow morning, instead? Or maybe tomorrow
afternoon? Why was she so stubborn? Shouldn't she listen to
her husband? She could just walk home -- an easy walk,
downhill, and leave it for tomorrow.
But the thing is, she reflected, you never know
what the reality will be tomorrow. Realities have a way of
shifting when you least expect them to -- namely, all the
time! With the result that an opportunity postponed can so
often mean an opportunity forever lost. The weather, for
instance. Right now, it's a bit brisk, but tomorrow might be
pouring. I could wake up with a headache or a cold or both,
and decide it's a bigger mitzva to stay home and get to
feeling better first, or...
A bus! No, it was the wrong one. Another bus! No, it wasn't
even turning down the street. Five after four.
Maybe Sima would have headed for home if it hadn't been for
the teddy bear. She hadn't wanted to visit Malky empty-
handed, so she'd gone to the local shopping center in between
phone calls that morning in search of some token gift. She'd
spotted a small but jaunty, fluffy white roly-poly teddy
bear, holding a lacey heart that proclaimed, "I Love You!"
Just the thing.
So, now, the mitzva had acquired some momentum that
seemed to propel her forward as of its own accord, and
despite all the seemingly good and logical reasons to turn
back and save it for a better time, Sima sat tight on the
bench at the bus stop, still waiting. Ten after four.
There was the bus!
It was a long, long winding ride, but Sima loved riding
through Yerusholayim, loved every centimeter of all its
varied neighborhoods. Two young girls were carrying on an
animated conversation in French. The lady across the aisle,
in the business suit, was talking into her cell phone in
Russian.
Funny, how a bus is like a microcosm, even more so in
Eretz Yisroel. All kinds of people brought together for a
short time only: different backgrounds and languages,
different challenges and concerns, all in transit, long rides
or short -- as in the outside world.
The French girls parted with an affectionate kiss and one got
off. A weary looking mother with a ten-year-old chattering
daughter, a musical instrument strapped on her back, got on.
Each time she turned, the case hit someone else. The mother
kept reaching up a hand to prevent this.
I can't help being nervous on the bus, these days. I can
see the other passengers eyeing me and my plastic bag, just
as I am eyeing them. They can't know it's only holding a
teddy bear...
Such a nice boy, Yitzy... We heard such good things about
him. I hope...
At the entrance of the hospital complex, a guard boarded the
bus, marched down the aisle looking right and left, and
jumped off at the back. Sima's bag was ignored. Ten minutes
to five.
Sima found the right building and passed through the security
gate. The elevator inched its way up to the right floor but
when she got off, she was met by a locked double door.
"To enter, press the intercom button."
Where? Oh, yes, here on the wall. She pressed and
pressed. Nothing happened. I came all the way and now I'm
stuck?
A lady got off the elevator. "What? They're closed? They
can't be! It's still two minutes before five."
Sima jabbed at the button again. "I don't know. Maybe the
button's broken..."
A buzzer sounded. Sima pushed the door open and they hurried
in. The nurse at the station was on the phone and ignored her
but then she spied the list of patients and their room
numbers.
"Sima!" Malky's face lit up to see her. It was half an hour
before the guard came around, telling visitors to leave...
*
It was just as well that Sima had grabbed the mitzva
fast. When she got home, much later, a radiant Zeesel told
her that Yitzy had popped the question. The vort was
to be the following night in their living room!
And so it was that early the next morning, still reeling from
the fantastic news, head spinning, Sima found herself in the
middle of tables and benches, cakes and salads, crates of
drinks being shlepped in, to the background noise of blaring
wedding music. A visit to the hospital would have been out of
the question...
Zevy came home looking pale and shaken. "We have to be so
grateful," he said.
She looked at him quizzically.
"The bus you wanted to take to the hospital this
morning..."
"Oh, no! No!"
Shifting realities, some joyous, some so devastating. Do a
mitzva fast because that is the only Reality there is.
Zevy nodded gravely. He turned off the lively music and
switched on the news.
