Within an hour, as promised, he had arranged for all of us to stay with a wonderful frum family whose boys had just returned to yeshiva, and eat Seudah Shlishis with them as well. Suffice it to say that their freshly made-up beds did not remain unoccupied for long. The rabbi/miracle worker also seamlessly found us fabulous hosts for both Friday night and Shabbos lunch.
In both cases, there was more than ample food for all eight of the unexpected guests, and a warm and welcoming ambience. And in keeping with the usual three-degrees of separation within the global frum community, during the course of our mealtime conversation we discovered that one of our impromptu hosts was closely related to one of my mother’s dearest friends.
Although I was absolutely, and to my mind justifiably, mortified to inconvenience all these amazing people, they were the quintessential machnisei orchim, making us feel that we were doing them a favor, instead of vice versa.
Postscript: Many years later, when our oldest daughter was married and living in Monsey, she was unexpectedly reunited with our unassuming, incomparable hosts and found herself reliving that otherworldly experience. Incredibly, and totally out of the blue, she belatedly discovered that one of their sons and his family were neighbors on her own block.
Part Two: Rocky Mountain High
Regardless of how well, b’chasdei Hashem, that long-ago near-catastrophic Shabbos ultimately turned out, we had learned our lesson the hard way. Consequently, “Ein somchim al haneis” became our vacation battle cry.
Even so, we can confidently attribute our eerily similar experience, some half a dozen years later, to yad Hashem as well. In this case, however, as in Megillas Esther, our heroine was a truly remarkable Jewish woman.
Again we were traveling virtually cross-country, from our home in Detroit to our soon-to-be home in Los Angeles. In advance of our protracted road trip/summer vacation, I had studied the map of the United States quite thoroughly, and visited our local triple-A office to map out our route, highlighting the main points of interest along the way. Then I had checked the AAA book for lodging en route, and reserved accommodations for every night of our journey.
All except for Shabbos. With what can only be attributed to pure hashgacha pratis, the most complicated arrangements of all were “effortlessly” organized on High, much to our good fortune and delight.
At the time, our second son was working for a frum caterer in a popular eatery situated in a local mall, simultaneously keeping busy and earning some extra money. When he casually mentioned to his employer that we planned to drive to LA over the course of a week-and-a-half, and were targeting Denver as our Shabbos stopover destination, the latter’s eyes lit up, as did the proverbial light bulb.
“Perfect!” he exclaimed, with unbridled enthusiasm. “I have a sister in Denver! She and her family regularly host lots of guests for Shabbos. I’m sure she would love to have you!”
And before my son could even blink, everything was organized and in place. His employer’s sister was indeed thrilled to welcome us to her city and home, and we were instructed not to give our Shabbos arrangements another moment’s thought.
So we set off on our incredible family road trip, the first step on our new west coast adventure, with nary a care. Instead, we drove through magnificent vistas, spent hours viewing wondrous sights and experiencing the nifla’os Haboreh, and enjoying each other’s company.
And when erev Shabbos rolled around, we contacted the caterer’s sister in Colorado as per her instructions. The Shabbos preparations she had put in place for us so nonchalantly and with unparalleled hachnasas orchim, by far exceeded our wildest imaginings.