Today was an awesome, incredible, amazing day. As I write these words, and even before I begin, let me remind those of you who may have already forgotten that this was the day of the totally out-of-left-field snowstorm we experienced, beginning on Wednesday afternoon, the sixth day of Chanukah, and continuing into the night, also known as erev Zos Chanukah, a night of miracles for the Jewish people throughout the centuries.
Hardly a day
passes since Purim when I am not reminded in some way of our beloved grandson,
Yehoshua, a”h. It may be because of
something I read, a shiur I’m
listening to, or a random comment about hakaras
hatov, which was so important to him.
Sometimes, I am in my kitchen and a picture of Yehoshua comes up on our digital
picture screen. “There’s Yehoshua,” I’ll think, “our gentle giant with his
gentle smile, cradling a new sibling in his arms,” or “There’s Yehoshua at a
sibling’s simcha towering over
everyone else,” or “There’s Yehoshua making a siyum.” And I am saddened once again by the thought that,
incredibly, he is no longer with us, and then I am strengthened by the legacy
he left behind.
And I couldn’t
help but feel his presence on that surreal Wednesday afternoon. The day started
out like any other, basically, except for the fact that I was going to TI where
I am a kriah morah (reading teacher) for first graders. Usually, I take
Wednesdays off to listen to Rabbi Silber’s wonderful Tehillim shiur. On this particular Wednesday, I opted
to go to school because we had missed Monday for Chanukah break. Snow was in
the forecast, but the snow reports in
Little did any of
us realize how quickly the weather conditions had deteriorated when early
dismissal was announced. I cleaned off my car and drove out of the parking lot.
My first realization that driving might be problematic occurred at the corner
of
And so the
nightmare began. An hour later, I reached Walmart, a few blocks away. My
husband stayed on the phone with me for most of my adventure. In between, I
said the words of Shir Hamaalos that
I knew by heart. And over and over I kept reiterating Yehoshua’s mantra that
“Everything Hashem does is for the good.”
Two-and-a-half
hours later, we were still inching along. My odometer barely went past the
zero. But, miraculously, each driver was keeping a safe distance, no one was
beeping, and no one was trying to pass the cars in front of them. Meanwhile,
the weather show was quite spectacular. At first, there were these incredibly
big beautiful fluffy snowflakes coming down. These were followed by sleet:
rocks of ice pelting my windows. Last, but not least, there was a downpour of
heavy, icy rain.
I could not help
but think about all the rebbeim,
teachers and carpool parents who were out on these roads, all at the same time.
I davened for their safe arrival home and for mine.
At 4:15, my
husband passed the “cheerleader baton” to my daughter Miriam, and he went off
to shul for Mincha/Maariv. Miriam continued to keep me company while anxiously
and simultaneously keeping an eye and ear out for her own girls coming home
from Bais Yaakov. Be’ezras Hashem, I
arrived home a few minutes before 5:00 safe and sound, albeit a bit shaky.
Thank you, Hashem!
Just before hadlakas neiros, another amazing addendum
to that day was the phone call I received from a dear friend of mine. She
called to tell me that she gets a mazal tov: She was planning to go to New York
for the pidyon haben of a grandson born after 11 years of marriage. Hodu leHashem ki tov! Again, thank you
Hashem!
That evening, our hadlakas neiros was heartfelt and very
special. However, my story did not yet reach its conclusion. Baruch Hashem, we did not hear of a
single accident or incident involving anyone in our community, which,
considering the ordeal so many of us experienced, was quite amazing in its own
right. Indeed, we have so much to be grateful for.
The proverbial
icing on the cake – or should I say the sufganiyot
– actually came the next day when I had the zechus to listen to a shiur
on Torah Anytime given by my son, Rabbi Yitzchok Boehm. Yitzchok’s shiur was titled, “Davening for Donuts.”
He spoke about the yesurim
(difficulties) we are experiencing during these unusual times and how they are
clearly the yesurim of chevlei hamashiach (the period before
the coming of Mashiach). He mentioned that gehinom
can take different forms. One usually thinks of gehinom as fire, brimstone, and intense heat. Yitzchok said that
there is also a level of gehinom that
is freezing cold ice and snow. I found it fascinating that he seemed to be
describing the way I felt about the weather the day before. He concluded with
an anecdote about his four-year-old: An emergency had come up (baruch Hashem, everything is okay), and
Yitzchok called home to tell his family that he would be delayed in lighting
the menorah. His four-year-old was more concerned that the family would not be
getting the sufganiyot that Yitzchok
brought home from his kollel each night of Chanukah. The little one began to daven fervently for the sufganiyot. A short while later, there
was a knock on the door. A talmid
arrived with the box of sufganiyot
just as the family was preparing to light. Yitzchok’s message brought my saga
to a wonderful finale. Hakadosh Baruch Hu is at our side, always taking care of
our every need and watching over us, every inch of our journeys. Thank you,
Hashem. Everything is indeed from Hashem, tailored-made for each and every one
of us.
