Have you ever lost something important and, in a state of panic, search everywhere, retrace your steps, and, after looking and looking in every logical and illogical place, struggle to resign yourself to the reality that the item has simply vanished?
Last week, as my wife Arleeta and I
were preparing to leave for Israel for our granddaughter Rivka’s wedding, we
were dealing with all of the last-minute preparations – especially all of the
items for the kids and grandkids and figuring out the suitcase-packing jigsaw
puzzle while checking the exact weight of each luggage piece – when Arleeta
said, “I have to run out; what did you do with my car keys?”
I replied, “Nothing; you were the
last one to use your car. Don’t worry, they’ll turn up. In the meantime, here’s
the spare key.”
After returning from her errand,
Arleeta said, “This is ridiculous. My keys must be somewhere around here.”
I reassured her that if we didn’t
locate them before leaving for Israel, we’d find them upon our return.
“But there are other keys, including
the house key, on that ring,” Arleeta said.
“It’ll be okay. Let’s concentrate on
other things, and they’ll turn up. We need to get to the vort in Baltimore (for our grandson Yonah), and when we get back,
they’ll turn up,” I confidently said.
Shortly before we left for the vort, Arleeta said, “My wallet and
checkbook are also missing from my purse.”
I said, “This is really weird – but
I’m sure we’ll find everything when we return.”
“You don’t understand; everything is
in my wallet – bank cards, credit cards, medical insurance cards, driver’s
license – EVERYTHING!!”
It gave Arleeta little comfort when
I said, “Well, we still have your passport.”
On the way to Baltimore, Arleeta was
beside herself, but fortunately our grandson’s vort distracted her for a couple of hours. On the way back to
Silver Spring, the anxiety levels started to return. The unsaid mutual thoughts
going through our minds were having to cancel credit cards just before
traveling, contacting Bank of America (never an enjoyable experience) to report
the lost checks, and reconstructing the other missing items.
As we drove past Columbia on Route
29, Arleeta said, “I’ve got to daven to find the lost objects.”
For those who may not be familiar
with it, there is a prayer and procedure for requesting heavenly assistance in
finding lost objects, the origins of which come from the Talmud (Avodah Zarah
18: a-b). We pray in the zechus
(merit) of Rebbe Meir Baal Haness and then pledge to donate money to the poor
in Israel.
As soon as we arrived home at 4:50,
Arleeta started davening with much kavana
and then said, “When we get to Israel, here is money for the poor; please add
to it.”
At precisely 5:00 p.m., exactly 10
minutes after reciting the tefilla
for lost objects, the doorbell rang. There was a stranger at the door wearing a
locksmith uniform. He was with a little boy of about five. He said, “I’m here
to do a mitzvah. My name is Itamar Greddy.” He was holding Arleeta’s wallet,
checkbook, and keys in his hands. “I was driving my truck to a job late this
morning, and as I crossed the intersection of Arcola and Lamberton, something
in the middle of the street caught my eye. I made a quick U-turn and pulled
over. Traffic was moving quickly through the busy intersection, but I could see
that there were items that looked like they were dropped by a woman. I ran into
the intersection and grabbed them. Because this is a Jewish neighborhood, I
figured that it might belong to a Jewish woman. I called my rabbi (Rabbi Levy
who runs the Sefardi minyan at Young Israel) and asked if he ever heard of
Arleeta Lerner. He had! In fact, his wife had her cell phone number. I called
several times but no answer.” (Because it was an unknown number, Arleeta had ignored
the calls.) “So I saw the address on the driver’s license, and I came by twice
and rang your bell and knocked but no one was home.” (We were at the vort.)
Arleeta (and I) were extremely relieved, to put it mildly. We
tried to give Itamar a reward for his efforts. He categorically refused, saying,
“It is a mitzvah to return lost items, and I wanted my son to be part of this
special mitzvah. I don’t want to receive a reward in this world for doing this holy mitzvah!”
Itamar is a truly righteous man!
* * *
Slowly we pieced together the
mystery of how Arleeta’s wallet, keys, and checkbook wound up at a busy
intersection. Several days earlier, Arleeta had gone food shopping. She did
what she usually does when she came home. She pulled into the garage to unload.
Normally, I help her, but I was away. Arleeta was balancing extra bags, and she
had her keys and wallet (the checkbook was in the wallet) in her hands. So she
placed the keys and wallet on the roof above the rear hatch as she grabbed the
bags and slammed the door. After dragging everything upstairs and unpacking the
shopping bags – while also receiving phone calls – she completely forgot about
the objects on the car’s roof.
Then came Friday and Shabbos. On
Sunday morning, she had to run out to an appointment in the Lamberton Shopping
Center. That’s when the missing keys saga began. Using the spare key, Arleeta
slowly backed out of our garage and slowly merged onto Arcola Avenue. At the
intersection of Lamberton, she needed to make a fast left turn, which obviously
caused the keys and wallet to fly off the car and land in the intersection.
The incredible bracha was that such a vigilant driver as Itamar Greddy was driving
through that busy intersection shortly after Arleeta had made the turn. Also
incredible is that, although many people drive and walk across that
intersection, especially in the middle of the day, the wallet and keys weren’t
taken or run over. They were returned intact and in perfect shape.
I often hear people say things like,
“What an interesting coincidence” when unusually good things happen. Personally,
I’m a big believer in hashgasha pratis (divine providence). For Arleeta
and me, having a stranger show up at our door with her wallet, checkbook, and
keys just a few minutes after Arleeta said the tefilla for lost items was stunning. Obviously, the safe return of
the lost items was a tremendous stress and anxiety reliever on the eve of our
trip.
* *
*
As I’ve have gotten older, I have
witnessed many unusual and some inexplicable things for which I have no
answers. Certainly, in the greater scheme of things, losing a wallet seems
petty, but the anxiety it produces isn’t. What I have learned is that the more
we are able to let go and acknowledge that we have limited control over life’s
challenges, the more balanced and healthy our lives are.
I was once in the lobby of an office
building in Cape Town with Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski, of blessed memory. We
were exactly on time for a meeting as we entered the building, but our
appointment was on the 22nd floor. Instinctively, I started running
to catch a departing elevator. Rabbi Twerski grabbed my arm and said, “I
stopped doing that 20 years ago, and I feel a lot better now than when I chased
elevators. Firstly, we know there’ll be another one coming shortly, and
secondly, we don’t know how many stops the (almost full) elevator you were
chasing might make, which could slow us down. Relax, we’ll take the next one.”
There was always something mystical
about Rabbi Twerski. The next elevator came in seconds. We were the only ones
on it, so we rode straight up to the 22nd floor!
* * *
Returning to our Israel trip
preparations, one of the things we always do is pack food – just in case.
Sometimes, as was the case this time, there are flight delays, and in addition,
sometimes kosher meals aren’t placed on board the aircraft. Having experienced
food poisoning a few years ago, I know about the statute of limitations on
specific foods that require refrigeration. Sandwiches are usually the simplest
choice. Although peanut butter and jelly is durable, it’s not exactly my
favorite option. My choice for emergency-ration sandwiches is lettuce and
thinly sliced tomato on toasted rye bread with a little unhealthy, preservative-laden
mayonnaise, and a couple slices of plastic-style American cheese.
My wife always points out how
unhealthy American cheese is and encourages me to pick from the many other
healthier “real” cheese options. It’s not that I don’t like the better quality
sliced cheese. Unfortunately, though, it’s never going to last as long out of
refrigeration as the plastic American cheese. Also, I love how the American
cheese slices are exquisitely individually wrapped. I find it so frustrating,
time after time, to open a package of cheddar, Swiss, gouda, Munster, or
mozzarella and find that the slices are stuck together because the kosher
cheese purveyors haven’t figured out that if you place a crooked 3x3-inch paper
separator between 4x4-inch cheese slices, the slices won’t properly separate
without crumbling. You’d think that with all of the amazing scientific,
medical, and technological breakthroughs made by Jews that someone might have
been able to design a cheese slice separator slightly larger than the actually
cheese slice. Alas, no such breakthrough is in the offing – probably because
we’ve all gotten used to crumbled and broken cheese slices.
Although we packed our just-in-case
provisions, we didn’t anticipate a 30-hour delay! Once again, the recognition
of having limited control over certain circumstances and challenges presented
itself. Remembering Rabbi Twerski, I thought, “Relax; it is what it is; do your
hishtadlus and go with the flow.” In
case you ever get stuck at Newark airport, it turns out that you can purchase a
variety of kosher wraps, sandwiches, and delicious salads (Star-K) at a number
of airport concessions. What a break for us! WARNING: just as you pay the same
amount for a bottle of “airport water” as you would for a case of non-airport
water, be prepared for sticker shock on kosher airport food. But, baruch Hashem, it’s there! It was mamash a bracha.
B”H, we finally
arrived in the Holy Land 20 hours before Rivka’s beautiful wedding. Nothing
compares to standing under the chuppa
of a beloved grandchild on a starry night in Yerushalayim, even if you’re jet
lagged.
* * *
We Jews are commanded to serve G-d b’simcha, with joy. I’ve mentioned
previously that, while the laws of physics preclude more than one object
occupying one space at one time, it is the nature of emotions that allows for
conflicting feelings to occupy the same space at the same time. Just as we
break a glass at the most joyous of celebrations to commemorate the still
broken Holy Temple, the shattered glass also serves to remind everyone present
to keep the festivities within appropriate limits of tznius (modesty). For the past eight months, we have also been reminded
of the brave and heroic members of the IDF, who, on a daily basis, risk their
lives, while some make the ultimate sacrifice so that others can celebrate simchas.
For Arleeta and me, those
conflicting emotions were quite intense. Just a few hours before the chuppa, we were sitting with our sweet bas bayis from Cape Town, Shelley Perez,
the mother of the late Captain Doniel Perez, Hy”d, who, at age 22, fell in battle on October 7th defending
our people from evil savagery. As we celebrated at the wedding and offered
prayers of gratitude to Hashem for our simcha, we paused to pray for the holy neshama of Doniel Perez, who died al kiddush Hashem.
May Hashem in His mercy avenge the
blood of His children, and may we be worthy, grateful, and thankful for all of Hashem’s manifold blessings. May
our enemies be vanquished and defeated, and may there be peace in our holy
land.
