It Doesn’t Make Cents

Not everything in life has to make sense. It’s our job to try our best, and to put our trust in the Almighty. This story is true, but all names and identifying details have been changed.

 

 

Malki was ecstatic — and petrified — on the evening of her oldest daughter’s vort. “The exact moment that my daughter’s future mother-in-law and I were about to finalize the engagement, it dawned on me that perhaps I had jumped into water that was just a bit too deep. This was real, a serious commitment. I most probably would never have had the nerve to continue if the mechutenster hadn’t sent the plate crashing to the floor. And then, right away, everyone started hugging and wishing me a ‘mazel tov,’ and I almost forgot why I had felt so hesitant just a few moments before.

 

“I realized, of course, what an incredible miracle it is when two neshamos finally find each other and reunite to build a sacred Jewish home. But, at the same time, marrying off a child costs a lot of money – an awful lot of money.”

 

In addition to raising her family, Malki works part-time in a nearby preschool, while her husband teaches full time in a yeshivah. But with the expenses of a large family and a busy household, they barely manage to make it through the month.

 

“I really had no idea how we were going to cover all the wedding expenses. After all, we had trouble paying the grocery bill at the end of each month. How would we ever be able to come up with the huge sums needed to marry off our child?”

 

Weddings are very expensive; clothing, shoes, beds, some basic appliances … the list is endless. Add to this the fact that in Eretz Yisrael the parents of the young couple are expected to cover the down payment on an apartment — well, the costs can be (and usually are) staggering.

 

“One thousand dollars is a lot of money. Multiply that twenty, or thirty, or forty times, and then you will have some idea of how what it costs to marry off a child,” explains Malki. “And don’t forget, we barely earned one thousand five hundred dollars a month between the two of us.

 

“Whenever I asked my older friends and neighbors how they had managed, they would just break out in the most exasperating smile and tell me that they really couldn’t understand it themselves, that it was a gift from Above.

 

“But I’m a very down-to-earth person, and their words made absolutely no sense to me. I wanted a dollars and cents answer."

 

It wasn't long before Malki discovered what her neighbors meant.

 

“Just a few weeks after my daughter’s engagement,” continues Malki, “the young couple signed a contract to purchase a tiny apartment that was still under construction in one of the newly developed religious suburbs of Yerushalayim. My daughter spent hours poring over the floor plans, dreaming of the home she was going to build, while I tossed and turned at night wondering how we would pay for it.

 

“A few days later, the bank called to inform us that we had to pay a tax within three days. If the money would not be paid on time, there was a possibility that we might forfeit a large chunk of the government grants that are given to assist young couples in purchasing their first apartment. The bottom line was that I had to come up with one thousand dollars within three days.

 

“Although a thousand dollars is, as they say, ‘a drop in the bucket’ when it comes to marrying off a child, for me, at least, a thousand dollars was — and still is — a lot of money. And I had no idea how I would be able to come up with it.”

 

Malki spent the remainder of that evening, and the entire next morning — the one day of the week that she didn’t work — dialing one number after another in an attempt to find a gemach that could lend her such a large sum of money on such short notice. But although several people promised that they would be able to loan her the money within the week, she was only able to find one gemach that could lend her five hundred dollars immediately.

 

“I’m not sneezing at five hundred dollars. It’s a lot of money,” continues Malki. “But still, I was five hundred dollars short. And that’s also a lot of money.”

 

After several hours of fruitless phone calls, Malki decided that she just could not continue anymore. Her husband had returned home for the afternoon break, and she asked him to take over her household duties while she went to the Kosel.

 

“As I approached the Kosel, I burst into tears,” Malki continued. “I’m usually not a very emotional person, and I’m embarrassed to say that most of my tefillos are recited by rote. Most probably, this was the first time that I really cried and pleaded with Hashem. I remember speaking to Him, like a daughter to her father, and telling him that this burden was too difficult for me. After all, He gave me this child, and now all I was trying to do was to fulfill His will and help her establish a proper Jewish home. I was doing as much as I physically could, and only He could help me.”

 

Less than two hours later, Malki returned home feeling much calmer than before. “I had always learned about the importance of bitachon — trusting in Hashem — and I realized that now I was being put to the test. On a physical plane, there was absolutely nothing more that I could do. Once I fully accepted that, I decided to forget about it.

 

“As usual,” continues Malki, “I checked our mailbox before climbing the stairs to our apartment. I was surprised to discover a letter with Swiss stamps on the envelope.”

 

Malki raced up the three flights of stairs and rushed into the apartment. Her hands were trembling as she ripped open the letter and pulled out a note that said, simply enough, “Mazel Tov on your daughter’s wedding. We hope that you can put this to good use.” Attached to the note was a check for five hundred dollars.

 

“There were many other challenges after that one, of course,” smiles Malki. “I wouldn’t say that it was easy, but somehow we brought this daughter to the chuppah, and the one after that … and the one after that. Baruch Hashem, we’ve managed to marry off seven children, and each time it can only be described as a miracle.

 

“When I was in school, the teachers often spoke about emunah and bitachon,” Malki continues. “Although I understood on an intellectual level that while we must do our utmost, the ultimate outcome is not in our hands, I found it difficult to take this abstract idea and bring it into my real life. When something went wrong, I blamed myself, even when I had done everything that I could possibly do. And of course, when things went the way they were supposed to, well, obviously it was a result of my expert planning and superior capabilities.

 

“But each time I married off another child, I was given an additional lesson in the meaning of emunah and bitachon. True, on a physical level both my husband and I did whatever had to be done — we put in extra hours at work; we took out long-term loans. But when it came down to dollars and cents, that was never enough to cover all the expenses. Each and every time, somehow or another — and don’t ask me how — we managed. And we’re just as poor as we’ve always been,” laughs Malki, “but no poorer. In some ways, we’re, perhaps, even richer.”

 

Today, when Malki’s friends ask her how she managed to marry off her children, Malki smiles mysteriously and replies, “I really don’t understand it myself. It’s a gift from Above.”

 

Even if it doesn't make cents.

 

 

 

(More of Debbie Shapiro's stories can be found in Bridging the Golden Gate)