It was Chanuka in Israel. That meant no school, at least not
for the girls, lots of latkes and doughnuts, and loads of fun
with family and friends visiting. For Elky, it meant finally
getting together with her best cousin, Chani, in Bnei Brak,
for a couple of days, something she'd been looking forward to
for as long as she could remember.
So now, the two ten-year-olds were down in the garden,
building castles in the sandbox and talking about those
things they never spoke about to anyone but to each other.
"You know," Chani was saying, and it sounded to Elky as
though she was close to tears, "it's so sad coming home from
school every day and never finding my mother at home..."
"What's so sad about that?" asked Elky, pushing stubborn
strands of black hair out of her eyes. "My mother is always
at home and I never thought I was supposed to be happy about
it."
"But don't you feel you want to tell her how your day went?
Don't you need her to listen to all your stories about all
the things that happened to you in school?"
"Big deal!"
"But don't things ever happen to you in school that you feel
you have to tell your mother about because it's making you so
miserable?"
Again Elky heard tears in Chani's voice. "I don't
understand," insisted Elky. "Why must it be your mother? If
it's bothering you so much, why can't you tell one of your
big sisters?"
Chani took her hands off the castle she was shaping. "I had
hoped that at least you'd understand," she said, taking a
deep breath. "Sisters are O.K. for lots of things like taking
me to the doctor or washing my hair or helping me with
homework. But it's different when I need someone to talk to,
to explain what's bothering me, to tell how I feel. For that,
sisters have no patience. They'll just pat me on the head,
say that it'll pass, that they wish they had my troubles and
to go and wash my face. Than in the morning, things will look
brighter."
"And what do you think your mother would say?"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you. She's never around.
She's either teaching or taking courses so that my father can
stay in kollel."
"O.K. But what would she say if she were at home?"
"She would hug me and kiss me and tell me what a wonderful
girl I was and that whatever happened doesn't matter..."
"You have a great imagination."
"Why do you say that?" said Chani, totally disappointed in
her cousin to whom she had waited to confide. "You always
used to understand me. Now you sound like my sisters instead
of my best friend."
Seeing Chani's eyes fill with tears, Elky quickly retracted.
"Oh, Chani. Don't say that. Of course, I'm still your best
friend. It's just that it's hard for me to understand how you
feel, because my mother is always home and it's not exactly
how you would imagine. The minute she hears me coming up the
stairs, she starts yelling, `Don't come in, I just washed the
floor. Don't make a sound, the baby just fell asleep. Don't
talk to me now, I have to call the fish man. Why is your hair
always in your eyes and don't you even know how to button
your sweater and all I need is for you to get sick,
cholila, and here's a list; go to the grocery and did
your teacher yell at you again for forgetting your homework?
And if she did, it serves you right...'"
By then, Elky was having a pretty hard time keeping her voice
steady and she ended in a rush, "I also have lots of things I
want to tell my mother, but what good is it having her home
when she's never home for ME?" Elky asked with a break in her
voice.
Chani patted Elky's arm. "Come, let's finish up this castle,"
she said in an old wise voice, adding, "I guess that just
like kids have their problems, mothers have theirs. We just
learned that we're not supposed to judge harshly because we
never really know..."
As the two little girls worked on the castle, it slowly took
shape. It had doors and windows and embattlements and a low
bridge over a moat and a tremendous fortress overlooking it
all. There seemed to be no end to the sand they were digging
up when suddenly, Elky said, "Chani, there's something down
here that doesn't feel like sand!"
The two cousins got to their knees and started pulling. They
pulled and pulled until up came a dirty plastic bag filled
with coins.
"Oh, Chani," Elky whispered in disbelief. "Is it possible
that we've just discovered a fortune?"
"It sure looks like a lot of money," Chani agreed excitedly.
"Maybe now we'll be rich and my mother won't have to go to
work and will be able to be home when I need her."
"So what should we do with all this money?" Elky asked. "It
looks as though it might take hours to count."
Chani was suddenly quiet, burdened with their discovery.
"Y'know, Elky," she finally said with eyebrows drawn together
in deep concentration. "I'm not sure that we're allowed to
keep this money. It's not like finding a coin on the street.
If it has some kind of identification. You've got to ask a
Rov."
"That's right. Let's ask your father what to do."
He was still in kollel. But since there was no school,
Chani's mother was home. And she gave them a welcome unlike
the one Chani always dreamed of:
"Just see what you look like! All covered with sand... even
in your hair! Quick, get into the shower, both of you.
Fast!"
"But Tante Rivky, we have something very important to tell
you," Elky started to say, figuring that being the guest, her
aunt would be more receptive. But Elky's mother stood her
ground. "The shower!" she repeated, pointing to the door.
By the time the two finished their showers, the house smelled
of doughnuts and latkes. "O.K. now I'm ready to listen," she
greeted them. "But stay right here in the kitchen so I can
keep my eye on the latkes. O.K., so what's up?"
She listened carefully as the two described how they'd
discovered the treasure and what to do about it. She
interrupted here and there to clarify some points and when
they finished, she gave them each a hug and said, "I'm very
proud that you both understand that this is a shayla.
Chani knows where the Rov lives since she always tags along
when Uncle Chaim goes to ask. But it might be a good idea to
ask the neighbors if they know of anybody who hid or lost
money in the sandbox."
Nobody seemed to know about lost money. "I guess we'll just
have to go to the Rov and ask him what to do," said Chani in
a trembling voice.
"You sound scared."
"I am. This is the first time I'm going alone."
"But I'm going with you!"
"Fine, but I'll have to ask the question. Do you think the
Rov will even pay attention to us? Maybe he won't take us
seriously, or just ignore us and tell us to send our
father."
Their steps slackened as they neared the Rov's house. "And
what if he tells us that we can't keep the money?" Elky
resumed her musing, eyebrows drawn.
"Then it's not ours. That's why we're going to ask."
"O.K., so let's go already." They almost ran the rest of the
way and were panting when they reached the third floor
apartment. Chani knocked. They heard hurried footsteps and
the door opened. A young man asked them what they wanted.
Chani swallowed and said in a hoarse whisper, "We need the
Rebbetzin."
That was a brilliant idea, she suddenly realized. This way,
they'd be spared the embarrassment of speaking directly to
the Rov.
"She's not home," said the young man, about to close the
door.
"We really need the Rov," Elky quickly explained, holding on
to the door and lifting up the plastic bag of coins. "You
see, we have a shayla."
It seemed to both girls that he was having a hard time trying
not to laugh. "Wait here," he said. He returned in a few
minutes and escorted them to the Rav's office. The Rav stood
up when they entered, and smiling, kindly asked them what
their shayla was.
He listened carefully, asked to see the bag of money, took
down some seforim from the bookcase and after flipping
through some pages, looked at them kindly and said, "That
plastic bag certainly belonged to someone. But since none of
the neighbors claim it, you are permitted to use the money,
on the condition that you return it to the owner when you
find him. Meanwhile, you can go buy Bisli and Bamba and
Crembos with the money."
From his smile, Chani understood that the Rov was finished.
Looking down, she said respectfully, "A groise yasher
koiach," and pulling Elky after her, the two ran down the
three flights of stairs as fast as they could.
*
"And the Rav said that until we find out who the money
belonged to, we should spend it on Bisli and Bamba and
Crembos..." they reported excitedly.
"What an exciting Chanuka," Elky sang out. "Quick, let's
count the money and go buy all the things that the Rov told
us to buy."
The two sat down on the floor and carefully emptied the dirty
plastic bag of its contents. Although it took them a long
time to count, the coins were only pennies, and Chani's dream
that her mother could stop working quickly died. When they
were finished, they stood up and went to the door.
"Where are you going?" Chani's mother asked.
"To the grocer's. The Rov said to buy Bisli, Bamba and
Crembo."
Chani's mother turned around to cover a smile.
So they were going to carry out the Rav's psak, she
suddenly realized. They had understood that they should
davka spend the money on precisely those things...
"Oi, to be so blessed, to have children who are so pure that
every word the Rav said was accepted as a command," she
thought, tears filling her eyes. "May they always have
such emunas chachomim!"
They stood waiting at the door. Chani's mother quickly wiped
away her tears of nachas and turned back to them with
a bright smile. "Did you finish counting all the money,
already? It looked like a lot of coins to me."
"They were mostly pennies," Elky noted. "Tante Rivka, do you
think it will be enough to buy all the things the Rav told us
to get?"
"Well, the only way you'll know is by going to the store."
The two worried children were away for a long time. When they
returned, they announced simultaneously: "It wasn't
enough."
Their faces were full of distress. It was the first time they
had ever asked a shayla and they had been so proud.
All they had wanted to do was obey exactly what the Rav had
told them. And now, they couldn't.
The joy and excitement of their day was suddenly gone. What
good was the money if they couldn't fulfill the Rav's
psak?
Chani's mother pulled the two of them close to her and hugged
them tight. Her tears were as hot as theirs. But whereas hers
were tears of joy at the innocence of their pure souls,
theirs were of grave disappointment in being unable to
fulfill the Rav's psak.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through Chani's mother's head and
laughing, she pushed them away and stood up. Taking a handful
of coins from her apron pocket, she said in a voice of
authority,
"The Rav never said I couldn't add money in order to help pay
for the Bisli, Bamba and Crembos. And here's some extra, for
a big container of ice cream so that our whole family can
celebrate this wonderful Chanuka day when you asked your
first shayla and were able to fulfill every word the
Rav told you."
