Is there a mother who doesn’t pour out fervent prayers for her daughter’s future from the day she is born? Especially with the prevalent shidduch crisis, my prayers became more potent as my dear Aviva grew older. “Please, Hashem,” I davened through the years, “let Aviva marry her predestined spouse at the right time. Enable her to build an observant home and raise children who will follow the ways of the Torah.” Several years ago, my prayers were miraculously answered, and my daughter was zoche to find an awesome ben Torah. There was just one tiny issue, we had very little money. My husband and I are klei kodesh, and although we’ve always felt tremendous satisfaction from our work on behalf of the congregation, just making ends meet has always been supremely challenging. In desperation, we even tried hiring a financial planner to help us stretch our income, to no avail. I could feel the lines in my forehead deepening as I wondered how on earth we would come up with the necessary funds to pull off this wedding. While my hands simply rested on the steering wheel, Hashem navigated our journey, allowing us to ride on a huge wave of His bountiful chesed.
Sholom Tuvia, our sterling chosson, was clearly going places, being a model of wonderful midos, as well as maintaining regular hours of study. We were thrilled with our new “son,” he was everything we had dreamed of and then some. However, he too, did not stem from money, and we were truly unsure as to how this wedding would become a reality.
One day, Rabbi Hexter, one of Sholom Tuvia’s former Rebbeim, happened to be in the same beis medrash where Sholom Tuvia was learning. In between learning sessions, he overheard Sholom Tuvia discussing his upcoming wedding, and he stopped short, jolted by the startling vision in front of his eyes. His jaw dropped open as he gazed in wide-eyed amazement at Sholom Tuvia.
Can it be? He wondered, stroking his beard as his heart danced a lively beat. Innocent victim of his parents’ acrimonious divorce, Sholom Tuvia was a boy who had struggled with so many hurdles. Throughout his turbulent teens, he presented as emotionally bruised and was vulnerable to all kinds of detrimental influences. Rabbi Hexter stood as a silent observer, overcome as he remembered the teenage upstart who had pursued a convoluted path of seemingly no return. Now, he blinked at the transformation, a veritable miracle. Sholom Tuvia looked the model of a clean shaven, presentable bachur, sefer in hand, the prototype of a genuine scholar. Eagerly approaching Sholom Tuvia, Rabbi Hexter threw an arm around his shoulder.
“I’m making your wedding,” he announced joyfully.
Now it was Sholom Tuviah’s jaw that fell open as he absorbed the unexpected windfall that had just dropped into his world. Incredulous, he listened as Rabbi Hexter warmly assured him that all of the arrangements would be taken care of gratis, and that he shouldn’t worry about anything.
“Thank you, Hashem,” he whispered.
It was one thing to know that Hashem would help us in our time of need, but seeing it in action was truly inspiring. I felt like a spectator at a beautiful play, watching the curtain lift as a perfectly planned plot unfolded.
True to his word, Rabbi Hexter reached out to a prominent rov and colleague, Rabbi Sternberg, who had the means at his disposal to help with our type of situation. Rabbi Sternberg reached out to the members of his shul, located in a small, suburban community, and plans for a beautiful wedding began to materialize.
Tears of gratitude coursed down my cheeks as I received this beautifully wrapped package that Hashem placed at my doorstep. Whenever I say the words, “lo lidei matnas bosor vadam,” my hope has always been to receive our needs with dignity, directly from Hashem’s outstretched hand. Now, in a remarkable twist of unexpected chesed, my husband and I were not forced to go begging in search of funds for our simcha. Perhaps, I mused, since I cared devotedly for Hashem’s child, He, in turn, is caring for us.
We have one son who has educational challenges. In order to help him learn successfully, we located a special yeshiva where he would get the services he needed. The tuition was a whopping $38,000 a year, but what choice did we have? This was our child, and what won’t parents do for their child? The inheritance from my beloved parents slid straight out of our bank account and into the yeshiva’s coffers as my son attended this school for four consecutive years. Our Father was watching, and at this critical juncture, just when we needed it, the debt was lovingly repaid.
It was time to find our radiant kallah a gown, which presented another obstacle. How would we possibly afford a gown? Swallowing a bitachon pill, I took my daughter in hand, my married daughter holding her other hand, and together we began gemach shopping. How much could it be? I asked myself naively. Three or four hundred will probably cover it, and somehow we will manage.
Mrs. P, of Perel’s gemach, picked out three dresses for Aviva to try while my daughter and I watched with breathless expectation. The first was pretty close, the second was not bad, and the third made her look like an ostrich. We sighed.
“Don’t say a word,” Mrs. P warned us with a wag of her finger. “Let the kallah think for herself.”
The fourth gown was her dream come true, though alterations were definitely needed, but then came the bombshell.
“The price will be between twelve and fifteen hundred depending on the alterations,” Mrs. P explained, and I hoped she couldn’t hear my heart pounding while she continued. “That includes alterations and even the dry cleaning.” I nodded dumbly, unable to formulate a coherent response.
“But if you pay in cash,” she added, dangling a prize, “the cost can be lowered to an even thousand.”
I told her we would be in touch, and as we left the store, my thoughts were flying in various directions. A thousand dollars…and then it hit me. My older son had worked for a few years. Surely he had ma’aser money.
“Nesanel,” I began, “here’s the situation…”
I proceeded to tell him about the gown, and he nodded, listening intently. While I wound up the story, Nesanel had already made his decision. What better tzedakah could he fund than hachnossas kallah for his own sister? With a snap of my fingers, the money was placed in my hand, yet another manifestation of Hashem’s bountiful chesed.
A prominent rebbetzin reminded me that any time we’re engaged in a mitzvah, such as preparing a child for a bris, bar mitzvah, or wedding, it is an opportune time for us to give blessings.
“You have more power to give blessings now,” she informed me, a twinkle in her eye.
Thrilled with this knowledge, I proceeded to shower everyone who crossed my path with multiple blessings for anything and everything they could possibly want or need. It was so exciting to be able to give after being on the receiving end of so much chesed! I have never felt so rich in my life as during this time, and I yearned to share the wealth.
When the wedding day was finally upon us, and I stopped in the hall to peek at the preparations. I saw the dazzling results of Rabbi Sternberg’s monumental efforts. A whole crew of women volunteers was busily setting tables in elegant fashion, replete with stunning floral arrangements as centerpieces. Their faces radiated love and joy as they worked in efficient unison. This wedding will not have the appearance of a chesed affair, I marveled, enamored by the pure giving hearts of klal yisroel.
Our hairstylist and make-up artist donated her time to make us look our best, and we were thrilled with the professional results.
“My child’s wedding was also done as a chesed,” she confided, and I tried not to cry so my mascara wouldn’t smear. “So I want to give back.”
Throughout my life, I have ridden the crests of many waves brimming with Hashem’s obvious and loving chesed, but those are stories for another time. Our wedding and all that led up to it was a crescendo of my continuing symphony, and it is my pleasure to share the poignant, soul-stirring music.