I once shared a short collection of personal examples of the
amazing Divine Providence that we fortunate one living in
Eretz Yisrael and particularly in Yerushalayim are privileged
to see first hand. I entitled the article "Postcards from the
Palace." I would like to add some more hashgachah
protis gems.
One of my married sons lives in a lovely community located
about forty-five minutes (as the bus flies) outside of
Yerushalayim. Last week, he received a call that one of his
old friends — a former chavrusa — had a
new son, and that the bris was scheduled for Friday
morning.
My son talked it over with his wife, who was busy preparing
for Shabbos for their family and the several guests they were
expecting. They decided my son would attend — alone. On
Thursday, his friend called to ask if my son was coming. When
answered in the affirmative, the friend made a small
request.
The friend's in-laws — the new grandparents —
were flying in from America. Their daughter felt they would
be tired after the trip and the simchah, and that it
would be ideal for them to have a quiet place to sleep on
Shabbos, somewhere close enough for them to walk to their
children's apartment for the meals.
Just such a place existed, but there was a catch. It was the
apartment of a neighbor who had gone away for a while. They
were welcome to use the place, but the only person who had a
key was the brother of the owner, who lived in the same town
as my son. The brother would be home on Friday morning. Could
my son stop off on the way to pick up the key to the
apartment, and bring it with him?
He was happy to be of help. As my son took the key, the
brother mumbled something about another problem. Here he had
someone going to Yerushalayim that Friday, but now . . . if
only he knew someone going the other way. My son quickly
explained that he was only going for the bris and
hoped to return immediately thereafter. What could he do for
him?
A neighbor of the brother was not feeling well. Her friend in
Yerushalayim offered to cook a whole Shabbos for her and her
family, but how could she get it there? For someone to bring
the food to this town meant at least an hour and a half of
travel time, round trip, plus the interval of waiting for the
buses.
My son said he would be glad to bring the food if it wasn't
very far from the shul where the bris was being
held. Where was it? On Rechov X. And where was the home of
the lady who was doing the cooking? Three buildings down!
If all of this had taken place on a different Friday, the
baal simchah would most likely have scheduled the
bris at the shul near his house, which would
have been a distance from where the food was. Also, my son
would have had his wife and young children going to
Yerushalayim with him.
It would have been difficult for him to manage the double
stroller, diaper bag and all of the other things one needs
for a family excursion and also bring a number of bags filled
with food trays.
By Providence, the scenario unfolded on the very Friday that
my son was traveling by himself. He had no problem carting
all of the food back to his town and bringing it to the sick
neighbor of the gentleman who was the keeper of the apartment
key.
*
The next story took place a few days ago. I am privileged to
live in a neighborhood that has excellent stores selling just
about everything. The rare exception is stockings. Every few
months I go to a certain supermarket about an hour away that
carries a good selection of thicker stockings and I stock
up.
All summer I stayed close to home. Even after things calmed
down in the north and everything stabilized, I didn't venture
out of my neighborhood very often. In fact, I didn't even buy
a monthly bus pass in July or August. Therefore, I put off my
stocking shopping expedition.
Now I have a bus pass. Several times last week, I said, "I
think today I'll go buy stockings." Then something would come
up to change my mind. But one afternoon early this week, I
had a strong feeling that I had to go to buy the stockings
right, right then. I grabbed my shopping bag and jumped on
the very next bus.
After I changed to the bus that goes past the supermarket, I
began to regret my hasty decision. The driver of the second
bus must have been behind schedule and he was really zooming
along. In fact, he was driving a bit on the reckless side.
Each time someone rang to get off, he came to a screeching
stop quite a distance past the bus stop.
When we were approaching my stop, I rang the exit bell two
blocks in advance, but the driver still took the curve
leading up to the market like a rodeo cowboy. The bus came to
a stop all right, but not across from the market. We overshot
the bus stop by a good twenty feet or more. I got off and
crossed to the parking lot of the shul that is located
next to the supermarket. From there, I could enter the
supermarket parking lot and then the market itself.
An important aside: One of my neighbors, whom we will call
Chaim (not his real name), has a car. He and his wife use
their vehicle to do an amazing amount of chesed.
Whether they are driving to a wedding or even a funeral or
condolence visit, they offer a ride to as many neighbors as
can fit in their car. I have been privileged to be their
passenger on many occasions and I know their car well.
Back to the shopping trip. It was minchah time when I
entered the shul parking lot, and I recognized my
neighbor Chaim rushing up the path.
As I passed one of the parked cars, I saw that it was Chaim's
familiar jalopy. I also saw that a key was sticking out of
the car's trunk lock! Dangling from the key and its key ring
were at least half a dozen other keys as well! Just as he was
about to disappear through the front door of the shul,
I called out, "Hey, Chaim, you forgot your keys!"
He rushed back to retrieve them. I was thinking it, but Chaim
said it first. "I can tell that you were sent here right now
just to tell me about the keys." There are non- Jewish
workers who unload trucks in the supermarket's lot just
adjacent to the shul parking lot. If one of them had
looked over and seen the keys protruding from the truck, he
could have helped himself to everything in the car, if not
the car itself.
Also, had someone taken the key ring, he would have had the
house keys as well. It is very possible that papers in the
car would have revealed the owners' address. I am sure that
it is because of all of the good that this family does with
their car that they were saved from what could have been a
major loss.
I don't remember ever being on a bus where the driver
overshot bus stops by that much. Clearly it was only for one
reason. By Divine Providence, I was supposed to walk through
that parking lot just then, rather than simply cross from bus
stop to supermarket!
