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23 Iyar 5761 - May 16, 2001 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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Home and Family
Stranded by Sheila Seigel

Wednesday afternoon 2:15 p.m.

"Hello, is this Avner? This is Mrs. Feldman speaking. I am calling to confirm that you will pick us up at 4:30 on Friday afternoon. Yes, that's right, we're going to Beit Shemesh. Fine. We'll be waiting for you outside."

Leah Feldman replaced the receiver and glanced at the list of things that she still had to do that day. With a sigh of relief, she ticked off "arrange transportation to Devora's house." She found it difficult to be on her own with the kids for Shabbos when her husband, Moshe, was away. The Shabbos invitation from her friend had been gratefully and promptly accepted.

Friday afternoon 4:25 p.m.

Leah lugged the oversized suitcase down the stairs, leaving it resting beside the curb. Assorted bags, the baby's stroller and a huge bunch of flowers lay in a heap. She wiped her perspiring forehead and straightened her sheitel.

"Rivky, Shifra, everyone here? Who has the baby? Mordechai, Yitzy, Elchanan, please stop running around. You'll get your Shabbos pants dirty. The driver will be here any minute. Just sit down and relax, kids."

The minutes ticked by slowly as the Feldman family waited in the scorching Jerusalem afternoon sun. "Ima, I'm thirsty. Give me a drink," begged Yitzy, pulling on her mother's hand. "Me, too. I want some juice," chimed in the other children, their flaces flushed.

"Shifra, run upstairs and bring two bottles of cold water and some plastic cups. Mordechai, I want you to call the driver and see how much longer he'll be," directed Leah, upset by the delay. Glancing at her watch, she realized that the driver was already almost half an hour late. Gritting her teeth, she tried to remain calm, as she soothed her miserable children.

Friday afternoon 5:17 p.m.

"This is crazy," fumed Leah. "He's almost an hour late and he still isn't answering his cell phone. We can't wait any longer. I had better call Devora and tell her we won't be coming."

A chorus of groans greeted her statement. "Ima, we don't have any food at home," Elchanan pointed out reasonably. "What will we eat? We don't even have any challa in the freezer and the stores are closed." A pall of gloom hung over the entire group. Leah had visions of approaching the neighborhood food gemachim for some soup and chicken for her hungry family. Maybe I could farm them out to different families here for the meals, she mused. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a shout from her daughter who had gone upstairs for another drink.

"Ima, Devora's husband is on the phone. He wants to know what's happening. What should I tell him?" Leah trudged wearily upstairs, drained and exhausted.

"I was so organized. I can't believe that this is happening to me, Menachem. It's too late to order another van. Maybe we should just stay here and scrounge up some food from the neighbors."

She sighed heavily, her body slumped in the chair. Suddenly she jumped up, eyes shining. "Really! You would do that? That would be wonderful. Will you have enough time? Yes, thank you so much!" Leah danced around the room, an enormous grin on her face. "Kids, we're going to Beit Shemesh after all. Devora's husband is borrowing his friend's van and coming to get us right now."

Whooping and cheering wildly, the children ran and skipped through the apartment. "We're going, we're going!" they chanted happily.

Friday night 8:00 p.m.

"I don't know what I would have done if Menachem hadn't come to our rescue. Honestly, when he came driving up in that battered old van, all I could think of was a knight riding on a magnificent steed, coming to save us from a dire fate!" The two friends giggled together companionably. Settled leisurely on the couch, Leah could finally relax and even laugh about her unpleasant experience that afternoon.

"I wonder why he didn't come, or even call to tell you that something had happened," wondered Devora aloud. "Let's be dan lekaf zechus. Maybe his wife went into labor and he had to rush her to the hospital. Naturally, he would forget about picking you up."

"You're right. Maybe there was an emergency and he wasn't able to contact me. That would explain why he didn't answer his phone, either. Boruch Hashem, we're here now and we can enjoy Shabbos. And I can tell you, your food tastes infinitely better than the tuna I had visions of serving!"

Motzaei Shabbos 10:00 p.m.

Leah reached for the telephone, uncertain of her next move. Arriving home on motzaei Shabbos with a van ordered from Beit Shemesh, she had quickly unpacked and put her exhausted but happy children to bed. Relaxing with a quiet cup of tea, she considered calling Avner to discover why he had failed to show up on Friday.

"What's the difference? We got there. Hashem took care of us, didn't He?" she thought to herself.

"But he really should have called to apologize, even after Shabbos," a stubborn voice inside her argued.

She recalled bits of her conversation with Devora. Judging favorably had seemed easy to do when chuckling on the couch with her friend, wrapped in the peacefulness and security of Shabbos.

Leah drew her hand back and said in her mind, "Never mind, Avner. Mazel tov. I hope your wife had an easy delivery..."

A warm glow suffused her, reminiscent of the glow she had felt on Shabbos, secure in Hashem's caring hands...

 

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