Years ago I wrote an article about one especially memorable incident that transpired during one of our annual summer road trips. However, instead of focusing on the beautiful sights and niflaos HaBoreh we were zoche to see, that particular story featured witnessing Divine providence in real time.
We had been cruising along, in the proverbial “middle of nowhere” when a little voice cried out those three potent words that every parent of young children knows all too well: “I gotta go!”
And, like all those frustrated parents throughout the millennia, my husband scanned the horizon for the nearest exit, and pulled to a stop at the first gas station he saw. Mere moments before the battery of our fifteen-passenger van exploded!
So, instead of apologizing for the unexpected detour, our impish little guy proudly took on (self-proclaimed) hero status for having saved his family from a near catastrophe.
Well, it took some two-plus decades, but I eventually repaid the debt, and that long ago incident came full circle in a remarkably similar fashion.
Fast forward to last summer. Our son, Chaim, now no longer an adorable youngster, but a (still cute) married man and father of two, decided to move out of his rental apartment in the center of the country, and venture further north, where he could purchase a house for roughly the same price as a small apartment in our neighborhood. He and his wife did some comprehensive research, chose a promising location, and even recruited both a relative and a close friend to join them on their adventure. The three young families decided to move together to the same area, in close proximity to one another, thereby making the transition exponentially smoother and easier for all of them.
Next my son contacted realtors in that neighborhood, and he and his wife took several trips up north to check out the available properties. Once they had narrowed the selection down to a few choices, they requested that we join them on the next trip up north to weigh in as well.
By the time we all made our way to their prospective new neighborhood, they had pretty much decided on a house to buy, but still wanted our confirmation before signing on the dotted line. So it was more or less a done deal, pending our approval.
It did not take a rocket scientist to appreciate why this particular property appealed to them. It was an attractive private home, situated on a large lot, with ample front and back yards and several other nice features. Best of all, it included a small unit that could be used as a private apartment to comfortably accommodate guests and/or an income-generating rental.
However, as we toured the house and evaluated its pluses and minuses with a critical eye, we noticed some glaring issues that potentially made it somewhat less appealing and far from ideal for a young family. For starters, the two-and-a-half bathrooms did not feature even one bathtub. When we pointed this out, the very uncompromising (and equally annoying!) woman of the house was unfazed. “Bathtubs are stupid!” was her unapologetic retort. Likewise, the drop living room/dining room was a nice architectural touch, but extremely impractical for a growing family with toddlers.
Besides which, the house was in need of some costly repairs and upgrades, such as the esthetic but visibly-damaged roof over the entrance and the aging and unsightly kitchen cabinets and countertops, to name but a few.
However, you-know-who kept repeating her highly-unfounded opinion that the house was “Perfect!” (ostensibly the only English word she knew!) and would not budge even one shekel off the considerable asking price. Not only would the kids not have any money left over to pay for the necessary repairs, but even meeting the monthly mortgage payments would be exceedingly difficult.
Another concern was that the street the property was on ended in an unsightly old apartment building, festooned with graffiti, and there was an overgrown sketchy looking vacant lot directly across the way, which struck me as resembling a garbage dump or worse.
In other words, my husband and I were definitely somewhat underwhelmed with the kids’ choice. However, absent any other options, we were reluctant to burst their bubble.
And that, my friends, is precisely when the Yad Hashem serendipitously intervened, providing my kids with a viable Plan B, and myself with a long-belated (and similarly-generated) opportunity for payback.
Being of a certain age, and having been blessed with many pregnancies, baruch Hashem, I (ahem) frequently seem to answer to a certain calling, i.e. the proverbial call of nature. And that is exactly what occurred on that fateful afternoon when we found ourselves driving around that unfamiliar neighborhood with our kids and grandkids.
As luck, or more accurately, Divine providence would have it, we were then situated just outside another house that the kids had considered earlier. My daughter-in-law still had the tenant’s number on her phone, so when there was no answer to our knock, she called her cellphone. The woman answered after a number of rings, and welcomed us inside to use the facilities.
Despite her protestations that the house was a mess, we were duly impressed by what we saw, and decided to display a bit more chutzpah by asking to take a quick look around. She agreed, and we went upstairs and peeked into most of the rooms, then thanked her profusely and staged a hasty exit.
However, even that rushed tour was sufficient to provide instant clarity. Both my husband and I were by far more inclined to suggest purchasing the second house rather than the one we had spent so much time and scrutiny viewing earlier in the day! It was much newer, in far better shape, upgraded, and well maintained. Although it was attached on both sides, it had a small front yard and a spacious backyard and deck. It even had a (stupid) bathtub in the kids’ bathroom!
The block it was on was not particularly beautiful, but there were lots of homes and neighbors and no vacant lots/garbage dumps in sight. To our mind, it was a major improvement over the first property. Better still, the price tag was considerably less and it required few, if any, repairs.
Long story short, our kids bought property number two, and have had no regrets baruch Hashem. In fact, to their ongoing delight, they have found it to be practically ‘perfect’!
