He could not stop thanking us for being there in his moment of need. I asked him for his mother’s name as he left arm in arm with my husband. I then rushed to light the candles.
When I looked at the clock, I noticed that in fact I was lighting the candles at the same time as most of the women of the city. I thanked Hashem for my family’s health and added a special prayer for this poor man, so alone with his illness that the only person he could seemingly call was someone he had not spoken to in several years.
I have no idea why Shmuel chose to call us, or why he waited so close to the arrival of Shabbos to do so. I simply know that as I sat down on the couch and opened The Jewish Press, I was amazed at how such an ordinary Friday afternoon could turn into a rushed, pressured tumult – all from one phone call.