I leaned forward. "Will he be frum?"
Yael shrugged. "Doesn't really matter."
"Fine, but when you're miserable, don't you dare come to me
with your complaints. I won't be interested." I was
fuming.
Yael caught onto my fury until she herself was piping hot.
She yelled that she would not come to my house and that all I
did was tell her how to live her life and she had enough of
that. And on and on and on it went.
By the end of the night, she left in a huff and I shut the
door behind her with a thud.
All those hours and days and years of nonstop encouragement,
of listening and helping work her issues through. All the
hours that I stole from my husband and children so that I
could comfort her and hold her hand. All the heartache that I
experienced when times were tough to her . . . I let those
tears come out and didn't even want them to stop. Finally, I
wiped my eyes and stood up. I stood limply by the couch, and
I whispered, "I failed."
I sat down there all night and cried my heart out.
The next morning, I dialed Yael's number. She didn't answer.
I left her a message. She didn't return my call. Over the
next weeks, I tried calling her every day, yet never received
an answer.
Succos came. I thought maybe Yael would stop by to wish me a
gut Yom Tov. She didn't. Routine set in. Chanukah was
around the corner. I remembered the Chanukah birthday parties
I used to make for Yael.
Chanukah arrived, with the peace and beauty that the lit
candles stirred anew every year. I watched the dancing lights
and felt the tears sting my eyes. I quickly turned away and
headed for the kitchen.
I peeled potatoes for a batch of latkes. I was cracking the
eggs when I heard a knock on the door. My husband opened the
door. I heard his hearty greeting, then with a smile he came
to call me. I was stunned to see Yael standing awkwardly by
the door. She smiled, then came to hug me.
"Come, let's sit on the couch," I invited her, suddenly
realizing how much I missed talking to her. We sat and spoke
for hours. The Chanukah spell was still effective, I noticed.
She was so open and positive. When we both yawned, I walked
her to the door.
We stood by the open door for a few minutes, the cold air
chilling our bodies but not getting into our hearts.
"Ahh, I almost forgot, happy birthday!"
She laughed then revealed. "I came today because I missed
you. I also came to tell you that I am engaged."
I tensed up.
Yael saw my expression. She poked me in the ribs and said, "I
won't tell you who he is. I'll bring him over tomorrow."
That night was probably the most nerve wracking night in my
history.
Yael came over before candle lighting. The latkes were
already fried up and the table was set. She walked in with
her fiance. All the tension and pain of the past few months
melted away. He was frum; my goodness, he was really
frum!
I learned one very important lesson from Yael. One can never
know the effects of one's words and actions. I had tried to
do the most I could and Hashem made the rest fall into place.
Even when I believed that I had failed.
