Some may say that certain unlikely events and their timing are a matter coincidence, but we who believe that Hashem is the Eternal Mastermind of the Universe – know better.
Mr. “Goodman” (not his real name) was a Jew who survived the horrors of the Holocaust. While many of his peers stopped believing in God, Mr. Goodman stood firm in his belief in His Creator and accepted all that had happened to him and his family will full emunah.
Mr. Goodman and his wife, an aishes chayil in the full sense of the word, rebuilt their lives and established a family of several children. Both he and his wife worked hard to support these children, living a simple life without luxuries so that they would have the funds to send their children to yeshiva as well as ensuring they would lack for nothing. While their friends vacationed in Florida during the winter or updated their furniture or appliances, the Goodmans worked non-stop, squirreling away their money so that their kids would have what they needed.
The years went by and, as it is the way of the world, both Mr. and Mrs. left the family they had created to join the families they had been born into – all of whom eagerly awaited them in the Next World.
Yet even in death, the giving to the children continued.
For ’round the time the Goodman children were emptying out their parents’ home – one they had lived in for over 30 years – a distant relative visited from out of town. She volunteered to join them one evening as they cleared the house that was full of old bills, magazines, Yiddish newspapers etc. As the relative took out some trash, she noticed a tattered folder in an open garbage bag. Curious, she opened it and found an identity card with Mr. Goodman’s photo with wording in German. There were several other documents all in German and she had no clue what they said. She mentioned the “find” she had rescued from the trash and was told to toss it. She decided to keep it and perhaps offer the documents to a Jewish Museum or even Yad Vashem next time she went to Israel, but she never got around to it.
Later that year it was decided that a one-time payment be given to Jews who could prove that they were slave laborers in Nazi concentration/labor camps. Even though he was no longer alive, Mr. Goodman still qualified based on the deadline that had been established.
The children, busy with raising families of their own and very aware that gathering documents that were over 50 years old would be time-consuming – if not futile – were not interested in pursuing the matter further. They did not have the time nor emotional stamina to visit that dark place in their father’s life.
But their relative did. And so she sent in the ragtag documents in German with no idea what these documents meant. It was a long shot – one that would take years since the applications of the living Survivors, numbering in the thousands, were given precedence. Those of the deceased would be reviewed only after the living.
Five years passed and the older Goodman grandchildren grew up. This spring, three became engaged. As their respective parents scratched their heads as they made a cheshbon – reckoning – of the wedding expenses, a check from Germany for thousands of dollars – Mr. Goodman’s “wages” – arrived.
Even in death, this loving father and zaide was still looking out for his children.