This is going to sound like an “Artscroll” story. You know, the kind that you hear which is supposed to be inspiring, but which some people don’t believe in all of its details. But this story is one which I just watched as it unfolded, and it affected me deeply during this time of leadup to the Yamim Noraim (High Holidays).
First some background: I am sadly part of a group for young (up to age 60 if I’m not mistaken) Jewish widows and widowers who identify themselves as “religious.” Although there are other groups for widows and widowers, this group was set up to specifically address the needs of the religious population. In addition to scheduled events and lectures, there is a very active WhatsApp support group.
I generally don’t read all of the messages on the support group because sometimes there are just too many and I don’t often feel the need.
But this morning, I noticed that there were about 50 messages that I hadn’t seen since yesterday, which is an unusually large number. I took a peek to see what was going on, and it turns out that a woman posted a very moving message yesterday.
It was her and her late husband’s wedding anniversary. In an act of true inner strength, she decided to mark the day by writing an anonymous note to an unknown bride and groom who were getting married at the same hall that she and her husband had gotten married in, and to include a gift for the young couple. She shared this with the group because these are exactly the types of things that people in the group find helpful. Anniversaries can be tough, and she wanted to project a positive way of dealing with this tough day rather than dwelling on the loss.
She shared with the group the note that she had written. Let me tell you – it was impossible to get through it without tears streaming down my face. It was essentially a letter of “advice” to the young couple based on what she had learned from her loss, but it was so heartfelt, so real, and so giving, that it was simply an act of beauty.
As I scrolled down the messages, seeing the reactions of people on the group to what she had done, one message in particular came up which caused a whole new cascade. A woman who identified herself as being a silent observer on the group (she of course also being a widow) said that she had to respond to this message. You see, it was her son who had gotten married last night at that hall; her son – orphaned from his own father – with the life experience of watching his own mother struggle with her widowhood – he was the one to receive this gift from the (no longer anonymous) heartfelt stranger. Everyone in the group was in shock over this chain of events.
I am crying again as I write this, due to a profound, deep sense of Hashgacha Pratit. This is a reminder to me, and hopefully to whoever is reading this, that we can always rely on Hashem. He is there, taking care of us, even when we don’t see Him. He is pulling all kinds of strings which are invisible to us, and in ways which are incomprehensible to us. Personally, I identify this feeling with the word “הנורא” in the first Bracha of the Amidah. But even after all of the amazing goodness and Hashgacha that I personally have experienced in my life, I don’t always remember this. So thank you, Hashem, for sending this reminder – really a Divine “lovenote” of sorts – during this special month of Elul.
אני לדודי ודודי לי