A bus ticket, a care package, a haircut — the items were small, the caring behind them enormous. A small seed sprouted and grew tall. Twenty readers share acts of giving

Pipe Dream

Tzippy Braude, Lakewood, NJ

I must have been in tenth grade, when I went to the lunchroom to wash netilas yadayim, and like every other day, took off the ring my grandparents had given me for my bas mitzvah.

I rarely saw my grandparents, and the ring was a precious memento of their love for me. To my horror, the ring somehow slipped across the wet counter and disappeared down the drain.

I gulped down tears and ran to the office for help. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to do, and I sadly went to class. About an hour or two passed and there was a knock on my classroom door. Rabbi Yoel Bursztyn, the school principal, stood there. He beckoned to me. I had no idea what he wanted and hesitatingly came out.

He smiled widely, lifted his hand, and opened his clenched fist. There, on his palm, was my lost ring!

Rabbi Bursztyn had called a plumber (probably at his own expense) and had gotten him to open the pipes under the sink to see if my ring was still there.

A young girl’s loss had pierced his kind heart, and he’d acted upon it. This small act of kindness still looms large in my memory.

A Hug from Hashem

Tobi Samet, Passaic, NJ

One of the small pleasures my husband and I enjoyed was shopping at Costco together. Even if I’d go alone, my husband would always say, “Call me when you’re coming up the street, and I’ll come help you unload the car.” A shopping trip to Costco was always about large quantities and bulky items, so the help was always appreciated.

Shopping for the Yom Tov meals meant huge briskets and turkey. My husband made friends with the butcher in whatever city we lived, and ordered meat in large quantities. Imagine his excitement when he saw that our Costco sold Kosher Empire turkeys at a good price. Imagine my consternation when he’d bring home three or four at a time and expect to find room in the freezer, when it was already stocked with challos, cake, frozen kugels, and soup. Help! But he always found room for them. Turkey fed a crowd, and it was his favorite.

Last year, two weeks before Pesach, I wasn’t feeling well. Little did I know it was coronavirus, or that my husband would come down with it a few days later. I gave my husband a shopping list for Costco. I still have it pinned to my bulletin board. It’s in his own handwriting: sugar, orange juice, aluminum foil, Dawn dish detergent, coffee, chicken bottoms, tissues.

One week later he was having trouble breathing, and was hospitalized. His levayah was on the 13th of Nissan. There were three turkeys and three roasts that stayed in my freezer that Yom Tov. My son, daughter-in-law, and I ate meals cooked with love by my neighbors for an entire week.

Three months later, I was coming home from a doctor’s appointment and knew I was due for a shop at Costco. I entered the store with a list, but bought so much more, having in mind all my children and their families who were now coming for Shabbos more often.

So there I was, with an overflowing shopping cart, hungry and thirsty, feeling very tired. I managed to squeeze all my purchases into the car and begin the trip home.

Then it hit me.

I’m all alone.

My husband won’t be there to smile and get excited about my purchases, or to find room in the freezer for the oversize turkeys and briskets I’d bought.

I have to do this by myself now.

The tears came fast and furious. I had trouble even seeing out the window. I finally made it home and pulled into the driveway. As I exited the car and pulled up to the back gate, a yungerman from the neighborhood passed by on the way to Minchah.

“Mrs. Samet, do you need help unloading your car?” he asked. And he proceeded to empty my car and navigate the many steps to the front door and into the house.

Thank you, Mr. Malach min HaShamayim. Thank You, HaKadosh Baruch Hu, Who takes care of widows and orphans. I felt a big hug not just from a caring neighbor, but from the One Above who sent him when I needed it most.

L’ilui nishmas Yisroel ben Aharon Halevi.

Moving

Ahuva Holzer, Cincinnati, Ohio

Moving out of our cramped apartment in a short amount of time was tough. Add a newborn, two preschoolers, an unbearably hot summer, and an infestation of German cockroaches to the mix, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.

But moving day was looming and we had to forge on. However, packing could only start after bedtime. And we were just so, so tired.

Somehow we managed to pack things into boxes. My friend Tova texted me: “Can we take your two big kids while you load the truck?” Gratefully, we sent our five-year-old and two-and-a-half-year old for hours and hours while the contents of our apartment were loaded onto the moving truck.

After the truck pulled away, we walked into the home we inhabited for five years. There was so much junk to get rid of and so much to clean. And it all had to be done by the next morning. We just wanted to sit amid the debris and cry.

And then another text from Tova: Can you guys come and hang out at our apartment with our sleeping kids, and we’ll clean up for you? We were stunned. Who does that? I couldn’t accept. This was my problem, not theirs!

But the next thing I knew, Tova’s husband, Moshe, was at our door. With his can-do attitude, high energy levels, and big smile, he plowed through every corner of that apartment, even dismantling some of the roach-infested furniture we were getting rid of and bringing it to the curb (fun fact: German cockroaches like wood. And they’d built a nest inside our dining room table).

To this day, I believe that without him, we’d still be sitting on the floor of that apartment. We’ll never forget Moshe and Tova’s selflessness that day, in an act that can only be described as... moving.