"How do people make Pesach?"
"Nissim — miracles."
"What do you mean by that? For Pesach, you need matzos, wine,
money. You can't eat `nissim'!"
"O.K. I'll be more specific. I'll tell you a true story that
happened to us last Pesach . . . "
Nison — the months of `nissim'
Tables Turned
by Leah Gottlieb
It was two weeks before Pesach and my in-laws were due to
arrive from the States to join us for the first days of Yom
Tov. I had just begun a new job and was working long hours,
racing towards my first two major deadlines the following
morning, when there was an ominous knock at the door. I was
almost expecting to hear, "Open up! KGB!" Even worse, it was
the demolition crew hired by our building committee to rip up
our floors to repair a leaky pipe of the building's central
heating system.
This was the second time this winter that they would be doing
so in our rented apartment and they had done it twice during
the past winter. I must admit it's never a good time to have
your floors ripped up, but of all bad times, this just had to
be the worst. I am not one of the world's most organized
people, and my super efficient mother-in-law and her husband
would be joining us all too shortly in this wreck.
The plan was for our in-laws to occupy our bedroom, while we
would take over the children's room. They in turn, would camp
out in our cozy living room. Our tiny table, which hardly
accommodated us, was promptly sent off to the manufacturer to
repair the collapsed leaves. Our modest, almost three-room
apartment would rise to the occasion and we would have a
wonderful Pesach together; hopefully. But now it was a
nightmare.
Those few days seemed like an eternity. The workers arrived
promptly each day at 7 and banged and drilled till I nearly
had a hole in my head. Through this, I worked at my computer
till the wee hours of night to meet my deadline. I left for
the office, thinking it couldn't possibly be worse. I
returned to discover that it could be. They had ripped up the
hall and the walk-in gemach closet, so that there were
car seats in the kitchen, high chairs in the children's room
and carriages and cribs in the master bedroom.
Then, at last, hope arose again, as our table was delivered
with two open leaves!
"Don't close the leaves," the carpenter warned, adding, "and
no guarantees; it's the best we could do." They plunked it
down in the only intact floor space in the house so that now
we had a whole table at least. But where would the kids
sleep?
It was a heatwave, really bad (and now they needed to repair
the heating pipes?). There was a family simcha that
night and I had to get the boys dressed Shabbosdik in this
house blanketed in dust. I leaped over ditches in my living
room and kept reminding the children, "Stay clean." Funny . .
. but they seemed to be enjoying the noise, dust and
smoke!
They're busy all day, With their tractors they play. While I
make futile attempts with a shovel and broom, they bring out
their " steamshovel" — a sandbox, smack in the living
room!
When we came home in the wee hours of the morning, I tried to
figure out a way to open four beds, with a table in the way
(there was nowhere else to put the table nor any other floor
to put kids to sleep on). I would barely get a few hours of
sleep before I had to rise at dawn to prepare my son for his
yearly class trip to the Galil.
Next morning, I scrounged around amidst the rubble for a hat,
canteen and some food and sent him off with lots of love to
make up for the makeshift lunch.
Back to sleep? No way! The workers have begun their work for
the day!
The mess, the noise and other inconveniences I can't mention
. . . Why couldn't they behave like menschen?
Now they were digging up the bedroom too. I tried to remain
calm through the drilling and noise, when my boss called to
say there was a problem with my work. The text wasn't long
enough. Could I whip up something extra, real quick? Then my
mother-in-law called from the USA, "Could my brother come
too, with his fiance?" " Sure," I said, "Why not?" Too late,
I realized; here thickens the plot.
That year, Shabbos Hagodol was also Erev Pesach, meaning a
two-day yom tov for us and three days for our guests
— all four of them! Since we had no other room to
spare, I began to call neighbors and knock on doors. We
couldn't possibly have them sleep on the floors which we
didn't even have!
Well, at least we had a table.That was worth something, but
then the leaves plotzed, and so did I: no place to eat,
nowhere to sleep, not even a floor under our feet, and
Pesach, with all our guests, fast approaching.
Oh, I forgot to tell you my brother was coming too, from Boro
Park, into this zoo! To stay with us for a week or two.
When the workers went home and the noise died down, I finally
broke down and began to cry. If only we had a table to host
our many guests, then I think be"H I'd be able to deal
with the rest.
Perhaps our Rov could help? Could we borrow money from a
gemach for this? Could he suggest a good
eitzah? I hesitated outside his door. Was it too late
to knock? Perhaps I should go to a friend to cry my heart out
— but that wouldn't be fair, either.
As I stepped out of the building, I was stunned by the sight:
the very two friends whom I had wished to turn to were
exiting a car, together. I ran to them and cried my heart
out; I told of the workers, the mess, and the very worst
— no table for guests.
"Well, I can help you with that one. We have an extra one,
just waiting for you."
I thought to myself, "Hashem, that was easy for You, so maybe
You also have a 3-in-1 couch-bed for us, too?" Sure enough,
days later, when my brother arrived, a bed was `delivered'
from heaven — 3 beds with a storage drawer. Then there
was a case of grape juice delivered to our door, and a carton
of chickens from some organization. What more could we ask
for?
We saw many great miracles that Pesach eve. Hashem saw to
every last detail, not a thing did He leave.
Sem girls showed up, out of the blue; we also got help from a
bochur or two. We were ready in time, with whole
floors and fresh painted walls (Mom and Dad might not
appreciate the children's scrawls). Somehow, food there was
plenty, with help from a sem girl or was it twenty? They
showed up in pairs, with a baalebuste flair, don't ask from
where — from Heaven it's clear.
They wiped and they covered, they cooked and they baked, so
when Dad arrived, he had Pesachdik cake!
When we discovered that we were unable to cover our new
table, we were unfazed and waited to be amazed. We took down
the Pesach things with a huff and puff, and there it was,
sure enough! A spanking new white tablecloth still in the
package, and the perfect size. Surprise! Large and oval, just
like our new table with the leaf. We stood there speechless
— this was beyond belief!
And every since, combined with our Pesach preparations is a
must — a whopping measure of emunah and
trust!
