As frum Jews, maaminim bnei maaminim (believers children of believers), we have no doubt that Hakadosh Baruch Hu runs this world with perfect justice and an undeniable Divine plan. However it is only on rare occasions that we actually perceive His meticulously woven tapestry with crystal clarity. Then we stand in awe, and humbly acknowledge the magnitude of the inner workings of the universe that we all too often take for granted.
The story I would like to share with you today is one such saga; only years later, and with the benefit of twenty-twenty hindsight, did the elusive puzzle pieces fit seamlessly into place.
We out-of-towners have traditionally been pegged as friendlier, more welcoming and less judgmental than our big-city counterparts. Still, when she joined our tenth-grade Bais Yaakov class all those many years ago (far more than I care to admit!) we did not exactly roll out the red carpet. On the contrary, most of the girls found her too different and shy to befriend. In the end, I was the only student who extended my hand in unconditional friendship and acceptance.
Thus we continued until high school graduation three years later. The following year, ten girls from our group, the newcomer and myself included, decided to travel to Israel for a year of seminary in Bais Yaakov of Yerushalayim.
The good news and the bad news was that the Holy Land received an abundance of rain that winter. The bracha aspect was quite obvious and much appreciated in that notoriously parched corner of the world. However, we seminary students honestly found the torrential downpours to be a tremendous inconvenience at one and the same time.
Our campus was in the process of being built (in Israeli-style slow motion), so we had to commute from our school building near the old zoo (off Bar Ilan Street) to our dormitory facilities, which were situated on Nili Street in the Rechavia area, a considerable distance away. Needless to say, the frequent storms seemed more a curse than a blessing to us at the time.
In fact, the daily schlep back and forth in inclement weather eventually became so challenging that my parents and this girl’s ultimately decided to undertake the additional expense of renting a room for us near the school building. After doing some research, we made arrangements to move in with a widow and her daughters who lived in proximity to the Bais Yaakov.
However, for reasons that I have still not uncovered in the half-century since, my “friend” backed out of the arrangement at the eleventh hour, and instead gave me the proverbial cold shoulder treatment. Try as I might, I could not figure out what had triggered her behavior; she simply dropped me cold turkey, and even stopped speaking to me altogether.
In the end, I reluctantly moved into the widow’s home on my own, and somehow managed to pull through, despite my acute disappointment and frustration.
Years passed, and we effectively lost contact. Each of us went our separate way, married, and established a family. After I moved to Israel, I discovered that her mother davened in a shul I frequented for the Yamim Tovim, and occasionally, when her daughter was visiting, we bumped into each other and exchanged tepid hellos.
Baruch Hashem my mishpacha eventually grew to include many grandchildren, some of whom had already married as well.
Then, some five years ago, I received an unexpected phone call from my former friend and classmate, who was in Israel visiting her mother. She filled me in on some of what had transpired in the past decades, and then haltingly divulged the reason for her call.