Where What When

Not Just by Chance

Of Wallets and Wonders

One of the little things that has been nagging at me is that, in cleaning out Aaron’s room last September, we were never able to find his wallet. We searched his room and the rest of the house top to bottom, but it never showed up. I was concerned that it had gotten lost in the hospital or was given away with his clothes, and of course in addition to any cash he had in the wallet, it also had his driver’s license, a credit card, and other things that it worried and hurt me to think had fallen into strange hands.

Fast forward to erev Pesach morning. As we were traveling this year, rather than the usual last minute cleaning and cooking, it was last minute packing. Just about done, I opened the door of my nightstand to get out a couple of final items, and suddenly, Aaron’s wallet literally fell out on the floor in front of me.

I have absolutely no recollection of putting the wallet in my nightstand, and no idea of how it could have gotten there. And I must have opened that door dozens of times this past year, and never even saw the wallet – let alone had it fall out by itself!

But there’s a second part to this story. I took out all the cash that Aaron had in the wallet; I wanted to give it to tzedaka before we left on the trip. So when I drove over to the shul to burn the chumetz, I went inside looking for a tzedaka box. But they were all locked away, probably until after Pesach. However, I encountered the Rabbi, who was about the only other person still in the building – I guess finishing up some last minute business of his own.

I asked the Rabbi if he could find me a tzedaka box to put the cash in, and he told me, “You can give it to me; I’m still collecting for maos chittim.”

I felt a shock of utter amazement. With all the usual Pesach preparation activities that we had omitted this year because we were going away, I suddenly realized that I had also completely forgotten to give a maos chittim donation.

I handed the money over to the Rabbi, muttering distractedly, “Yes, maos chittim, that’s what it should be.” And then the final comprehension swept over me: the money I was giving the Rabbi, the leftover cash that happened to be in Aaron’s wallet, was exactly the amount I usually give for maos chittim!

You can call this a mere coincidence if you prefer. But I don’t think I believe in coincidences any more. I think that, somehow, that morning, Aaron was, however miraculously, sending me a message. And I think it’s no coincidence either that this occurred on erev Pesach morning, an occasion that Aaron and I, as the two bechorim (firstborn) in the family, always shared together as a special bond. Instead of going to the siyum bechorim with me this year – as he had done every year since he could walk – Aaron somehow reached out to help me keep an important Pesach mitzva that I would have otherwise forgotten.

Thanks Aaron, for continuing to be such a wonderful son, even from the next world.

This story originally appeared in “Elie’s Expositions”(elie-expo.blogspot.com ), a “blog” started last July by bereaved parent Elie Rosenfeld. The story of the sudden petira of the Rosenfelds’ son Aaron was told two months ago in these pages by David Gerstman. Elie Rosenfeld is the son of Mrs. Eve Rosenfeld of Baltimore and grandson of Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech Hertzberg, zt”l, founder of Congregation Beth Abraham.

This is the first in a new series of hashgacha pratis (divine providence) stories, to be called “Not Just by Chance.” If you have a story to share, please contact the Where What When at 410-358-8509.

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Article List - October 2006