My Special Delivery

By Laya Zryl

Lugging home 12 ½ kilo (thirty pounds) of fish erev Pesach is not the easiest job for a savta like me, nevertheless, that is the task I faced today. I could splurge on a taxi but I knew that at six o’clock, Thursday evening, cabs were few and far between at the spot I would need one. Well, I said to myself, if Hashem wants He will send me a taxi.

This is not really my style of thinking. In our days, while we certainly had faith in Hashem and believed in hashgacha pratis, we saved it for bigger and more important things than hailing a taxi. Today’s generation is different. They count on Hashem for all the little things in life: from making the green light before it turns red to winning the lottery prize. “If Hashem wants me to have parnassa He has many ways of providing. All I need is a bit of hishtadlus,” goes the reasoning. And the surprising thing is, it works. So I decided, at my late age, maybe it will work for me.

I stood on the corner waiting for a taxi. Waiting. Waiting. I’ll give it ten minutes and then give up, I said to myself. All of a sudden Zahava, who lives in my neighborhood,  passes by in her car and gives me a friendly wave. Raising my hand in the inimitable Israeli signal that says ‘just a minute’, she slowed down to stop and in I went. “I always slow down when I see acquaintances in case they want a lift,” she said, ‘but standing there with your canvas bag, I thought you were on your way out-of-town.” How was she to know that my suitcase was filled with fish!

Knowing her route home, I was delighted to be left off not far from my building. Just as I finished thanking her again for being the shaliach, she made a sharp turn up the cul-de-sac that is right in front of my house. “I guess Hashem wanted you to get a lift right up to your house,” she said. I happily got out of the car. All that was left was for me to walk down some steps and then up to the third floor. Not too bad considering. Just as I began the walk down towards the building entrance, one of my Russian neighbors comes towards me.

“Can I help you?” he politely inquired.

“Yes, you can,” I replied smiling.  

“That’s what neighbors are for,” he remarked as he shlepped the fish up the three flights.

And that is what relying on Hashem is all about, I thought, as I entered the door full of spring and pep ready to continue with my Pesach cleaning.