Diego Rivera,* the owner of a popular 7-11 was having a regular long spring day when, all of a sudden, the doors to his convenience store were flung open, warm air rushing behind. It was a young man who seemed agitated while trying to appear calm, cool, and collected. Decked out in a suit, white shirt, shined shoes, and tie, the young man came running in asking for assistance.
“Do
you sell paper towels? Gatorade? Hand soap? Where
can I find the crackers?” he asked in a refined yet rushed tone. Rivera was
accustomed to urgent questions regarding milk, extra coffee creamer, sugar
packets, and Slurpee flavors, but this? Never. Never before, that is. Looking
out the tall glass windows of his shop as the sun started to set, Diego Rivera
noticed a young lady in the car parked in front of his convenience store. She
too was dressed in fancy yet modest attire. How cute. They must be a young
married couple, he thought as the young man approached the counter to check
out.
As the
setting sun poured into the window, beads of sweat poured down his forehead and drenched the back of his black suit.
It was clear to Rivera that the man was in the midst of an emergency. “Here,” he said, “take this water on the house; you look
like you need a drink.” As he rang up the young man’s purchase, Diego
glanced out the window at the small 2003 Camry still
running with the young woman awaiting her young husband. As he rung the items up – hand soap, crackers, paper towels,
Gatorade, chocolate, Tylenol, a cup of ice chips – Rivera dropped each item carefully
into the white plastic bag. Little did he know: Not
only were they not married but this was their first date.
* * *
Every shidduch has a story. To most, this story would seem to begin on an
early spring day, erev Pesach, when
this young couple’s date was planned and set, but the story actually began much
before that. As a shadchan I am privy
to witness how many small miracles come together to create a perfect circle: a
circle of nissim (miracles) which, in
turn, “split the sea” and end in the climax of a successful shidduch, akin to a modern-day matan Torah.
This
particular story began a month before Pesach as I was perusing my Nshei email’s
daily digest. Suddenly a subject line stood out: miracle number one – because to this day I cannot understand what prompted me to click
on such an email. Anyone who really knows me knows that I can be described
essentially as an extroverted introvert. Being home suits me, going out drains
me, and being with a new group of random people gives me anxiety. Despite all
this, my fingers managed to click on the subject line, “Special Shiur – Socially
Distant – This Monday!”
Miracle
number two: “special shiur.” I prefer
a shiur on Zoom any day to a
socially-distant shiur wearing the
required itchy mask and face
shield. But when Hashem wants something to happen, He
makes it happen. It was at this shiur
that I sat six feet away from Tova,* who immediately recognized me as a shadchan and introduced herself. She was
bright and brilliant, a firecracker of a young
woman bursting with energy, fun, and depth.
It
took a few months until the thought of Raphael (Rafi) Moses* crossed my mind
for Tova; he was the nicest guy with a heart of gold, similar passion, and
depth of character, as well as a zest for life and a great personality. The shidduch was quickly checked into and redt, and the date was set for erev Pesach. To my knowledge, the date
went well as I did not hear otherwise from Rafi: “Great girl, I’d like to go
out again” he proclaimed in our brief post-date conversation. I quickly dialed
Tova’s number, and she picked up on the first ring.
“I am
absolutely mortified!” she said, “but before I get to that, yes. Yes, I’d like
to go out again; he is really the nicest guy.”
“Wait….
So why are you mortified?” I asked, and as I thought of all the potential
reasons why a young
woman on a first date would be mortified, she then
told her story.
“The
date was okay, nothing special. I really was not so into it. I wouldn’t have
necessarily minded if he said no. He ended the date pretty early so I assumed
he wasn’t interested either, but then something happened…” She trailed off.
“What
happened?!” I mused.
“I
can’t believe he didn’t tell you. I…I threw up,” she confided. “Everywhere. All
over myself and the front seat of his car. I do not have stomach issues, nor
was I not feeling well. The whole date I was feeling 100 percent fine. He was
about to take me home when I literally just threw up out of nowhere all over
his car.”
Shell
shocked and speechless, I kept listening,
“So,
like a knight-in-shining-armor, he pulled over at the closest convenience
store, a small 7-11, and bought them out of all possible emergency supplies. He
thought of everything, I’m telling you: Hand soap.
Crackers. Paper towels. Gatorade. Chocolate. Tylenol. A cup of ice chips. I
mean, who does that?! What a guy. So yes, yes, of course, I would like to go
out again.”
* * *
After the phone call, I sat
for a moment in shock reliving the story that just transpired. I was even more
shocked that Rafi hadn’t told me the story, keeping her privacy intact. I
called him back and mentioned the episode.
“To be
totally honest with you,” Rafi confided, “I was about to say no. I usually get
a good feel after a first date if a young woman is for me, and I go by my first
impression. In this case, it was pretty clear cut – so clear cut, in fact, that since I was in aveilus and had a chiyuv to daven for the amud,
I used it as an excuse to end the date early even though I could have caught a
later minyan. But then out of nowhere, she threw up. I would never have the
heart to say no after what happened, so I want to give it another date and see
what happens.”
Their
next two dates went without a hitch, both enjoying each other’s company and
getting to know each other better. Things seemed to be taking shape. Come date
four, however, and things were not that clear. Speaking with Tova for a long
time debriefing the last date, we discussed her uncertainties. It was not that
she wasn’t interested, but she was just not feeling things progress. “I even spoke with my closest mentor
who suggested I break up now because, at this point, I should really know
whether he is for me.”
After
probing and not hearing any concerns or issues, I tried to reassure Tova that
not everyone knows by a fourth date
if the person they are dating is their future husband. We discussed the virtues
of taking time to let the other person’s personality shine and the reality of
complex human beings taking the gift of time to make the biggest decision of
their life. “My phone is dying
anyway, and I am out with my family on a trip,” I told her. “Sleep on it and
let me know tomorrow.” Having already spoken to Rafi, who had a nice time, I
quickly texted him informing that my phone was dying so I would get contact him
with an answer regarding the shidduch
the following morning.
Just
as the sun started to rise the following morning, I received a text from Tova:
“So, I thought about what you said, and spoke to my parents. They encouraged
me, even went as far as saying they love me more than any mentor in the world.
They met Rafi and adore him. They truly believe breaking it off now would be
stupid, and I have come to agree with them. I would happily go out again.
You’re right.”
Filling
Rafi in, I heard him breathe a sigh of relief. A fifth date was set. The two
planned a full day outing with activity, walking, and a lovely dinner to finish
it off.
After
date five, however, the tables had turned. As soon as Rafi called, I heard
hesitancy in his voice. I waited on the line as he described what a wonderful
young woman she was and how impressed he was of her. Not having gotten an
answer yet, I sensed a “but” coming,
when suddenly Rafi sounded distracted, greeting someone warmly. The men had
just finished Maariv, and his brother suddenly showed up in the lobby at the
shul he had called from. I stayed on the line as the brothers embraced until
Rafi explained that he was going to call back in a few minutes. Time was
ticking, and I hadn’t gotten the call from Rafi, when Tova called.
I can
still “hear” the smile on Tova’s face as if it were yesterday. “I had the most amazing date ever. I
cannot believe I almost broke up with him. Thank you for talking me out of it!”
she exclaimed, “Can you call me as soon as you hear from him?” she said, “I
can’t wait to hear back…”
As
fate had it, when Rafi finally called back, I was out without a phone charger,
and the trusty phone was once again dying. I got to the point quickly: “Rafi,
she had the most unbelievable time with you. I actually heard the smile in her
voice! She is very excited and definitely would like to go out again.”
“I
can’t wrap my head around this,” he said, “When you called earlier, right
before my brother tapped my shoulder, I was about to end the shidduch, not for any particular
negative reason but because I was just not feeling it. If I had done that, it
would not have mattered how excited she was. But hearing you say those words
now just made me rethink things. I would like to talk to my rebbi.”
Rafi
gave his rebbi a call. A few hours later, with my phone juiced up, an incoming
call pinged through; it was Rafi. He had talked it over with his rebbi, who
agreed unequivocally that the shidduch
should continue with the young woman’s newfound excitement, to see how the next
few dates transpired.
Fate
had it that this is exactly what happened. Excitement and happiness brewed like
a fresh cup of coffee. The two started connecting on levels they had never
experienced before. The next few dates flew by in a cloud of intense simcha and
clarity. Things were coming together, and the families met. Date after date
went by with more and more clarity that this was “the one.” The happy couple
got engaged, and the simcha that emanating from both families was palpable.
My
phone pinged right before Shavuos with a text from Tova. “I’m just thinking of
you,” she wrote. “This is my matan Torah.
Thank you so much for encouraging me. This is my first Yom Tov as a kallah, and you have no idea the intense
simcha I have to be marrying Rafi; I sincerely have no words.”
Watching
the letters which formed those words dance off the screen in front of my mind’s
eye, I envisioned each nes that had
transpired from the beginning of this shidduch.
From the day the Nshei email came through to the day I uncharacteristically
attended the socially-distant shiur,
which goes against my grain. From the throw-up in the car to the phone
conveniently dying at just the right moment to Rafi’s brother being at exactly
the right place at the right time to prevent a catastrophe. It is clear as
crystal that this Matan Torah that
Tova experienced was orchestrated straight from Hakadosh Baruch Hu.
The
most common question people in shidduchim
have is, how much hishtadlus should I
do? To that I answer, all you have to do is throw it up to G-d, and He in turn
will throw it right down to you.
