I was disappointed one evening to see a snag which began to
develop as I drew my foot out of my walking shoe. Where did
that snag start? What's so sharp in my shoe that it could
pick up one solitary strand of the 40-denier stocking and not
poke me in the toe? I broke the strand and fretted a bit over
the nice new stocking which was puckered all the way around.
I managed to ease the thin strand a bit back into the weave
to prevent a run and then turned my attention to the source
of the problem.
I had just returned from a 45-minute tour of the neighborhood
and had felt nothing strange despite my determined gait.
Imagine my stride as I stalked my `renegades' who were 2
hours late. They had blissfully forgotten to return home
after a potato roast, and I had arrived home empty-handed.
Back to the shoe. I picked up my well-worn shoe with the well-
worn inserts. I'll admit that I neglect my footwear. As long
as it doesn't bother me, I ignore it. I don't bother to untie
shoes if I'm in a big hurry to get in or out of the house. I
often just slip them on or off. I hate to buy a new pair, for
finding a good pair of shoes is like picking a candidate for
a presidential election. One searches everywhere, waits until
the last minute and then decides on the least detrimental
choice. Actually, to put off that fateful day, I had recently
bought a bottle of polish and after donning my shoes one day,
did a quick job of putting on a fresh coat of shiny brown,
being careful not to add a decorative tan stripe to my
ankle.
I peeked into the shoe to see if there was something poking
through one of the stitches and was quite astonished to
recognize the culprit. I was expecting a vestige of the
stocking thread to be caught inside but I found nothing of
the sort. Instead, there was a double strand of blue thread
in my shoe. This was imbedded, together with the eye of the
needle in which it was threaded, in the soft cushion of the
sky-blue of the insole. Of course, there are two ends to
every sewing needle. This one was a good inch and a half
long, and the sewing tip of the needle was also neatly tucked
into the foam rubber on its end.
I remembered having lost this needle and thread two weeks
earlier. I had been afraid that it would poke me in the
finger sometime when I squeezed out my floor mop
[spongador, belaaz]. At the time, I had been finishing
some mending for a son who was on his way out the door. I
simply took another needle and kept on working. Ever since
then, I'd been on the lookout for the needle in my dustpan,
hoping to catch it in time.
Now I was reminded with unmistakable clarity that Hashem
loves me! Does this make me proud? Quite a bit, but
undoubtedly not much more than any Jew. Hashem loves every
one of us intensely. Every Jew, says the Ramchal, enjoys the
most personal hashgocha protis.
Does this fill me with wonder? Absolutely! I recently came
across a children's science book that noted that the moon is
in a constant state of falling but never finishes that fall
because it has a chronic tip to the side which keeps it
orbiting around the earth. The next day I found myself on an
Egged bus as the skies grew dark. I eyed the silvery sliver
of the nascent moon with new wonder. And I began to wonder
about the face, the same face, it always shows us.
The moon is the symbol of the Jewish nation; we also wax and
wane. Do we always show the same face to other nations? Are
we in a constant state of falling but never crash because we
have a chronic tilt to the side, a penchant to turn east, to
the Kosel, to the gate of Heaven and the source we are meant
to reflect?
Who holds the moon in the sky if not Hashem? Why should a
scientist pride himself on discovering such tidbits about the
world? Even if he could create a simulated computerized
version, so what? Blessed be Hashem Who produced the actual
thing with its timing, weight, density, size and
symbolism.
Our Unique Creator, Who keeps the moon from falling, cares to
keep me from poking my toe or finger with a needle. For two
weeks I had slipped in and out of my shoes without giving the
least attention to what was going on inside them. Typically
human, ignoring the inner workings.
"Hashem! What is man that You are mindful of him?" Even the
great moon in its orbit was created for him, to teach him
about Your great love. He is commanded to love You with all
his heart, but he will never be capable of matching Your love
or concern for him. You have never once forgotten to hold up
the moon or renew our lives at dawn.
How often does man forget about You?
