Sometimes it feels as though your entire future hinges on an upcoming verdict that will change everything. 4 stories of women left hanging in the balance

The Longest Night

Everything about this trip seemed like the wrong thing.

But my son Hershy was 26 years old, putting him around seven years behind his peers who had all left yeshivah, gotten married, and established families with four or five kids. His friends had celebrated births and upsherins, first days at cheder and school. And still Hershy waited. The suggestions weren’t even a trickle, the beshows so rare he was even scared to tell his siblings about them.

And then this suggestion from… Belgium. Antwerp? I couldn’t even place it on a map, let alone name anyone there. 

I said no.

My husband checked with someone who knew someone who knew the girl’s side. It sounded great. The shadchan was insistent. And still I said no.

Fly to the other end of the world where we knew nothing and no one and especially not the language? We’re Israeli — generations and generations pure Israeli.

No.

A month later, and we were on a Tuesday flight to Nowheresville. My husband and I, a nervous Hershy, and a nephew who knew Yiddish and English. A shadchan’s promise that the other side was very serious, or they wouldn’t force us across the ocean. Some watches and a necklace because a mother can only hope, and how was I going to trust a jeweler so far away from home? That was assuming I could even find a jeweler. (And for those cynical people who laugh about me bringing coals to Newcastle — I really didn’t know anything about Antwerp.)

We arrived in the dead of winter to the most miserable place I’d ever seen. It rained; it was freezing. The house we stayed in was heated like a greenhouse, giving me raging headaches.

But then Wednesday dawned and the girl was adorable.

As is the custom in chassidish circles, her parents met Hershy first, and then we met the girl. She was pretty and personable and clearly very intelligent. Not too shy, even with her stilted Hebrew. For the first time I let myself smile.

“She’s something special,” I murmured to Hershy before he went in for their beshow.

They spoke and spoke, and my spirits rose. I let myself imagine calling all those waiting breathlessly at home. Let myself sound the words out in my mind: Hershy’s getting engaged.

Hershy came out glowing. My heart soared. The beshow was a success! Hershy’s getting engaged! I opened the suitcase and took out the jewelry. Mizmor lesodah….

In our chassidus, one successful meeting was all that we needed. As we had for my other children, we waited for the shadchan’s call with the time and location of the l’chayim.

“The girl asked for another meeting.”