By Nechama Bar
Suzy waited excitedly at the airport in Lud. She scanned the passengers coming out, pushing carts laden with their suitcases as they looked out for relatives who came to meet them.
Suzy made her way through the people who filled the arrivals hall and stood very close to the door through which the passengers came out. She didn’t want to miss her mother who was coming from France to visit her for Pesach, as she did every year.
Oh! There was Miriam Mishali walking quickly. On her cart was a large suitcase and a small travel bag. Suzy nearly jumped up and down in excitement.
“Mama!” she shouted, ignoring the stares from those around her. And then mother and daughter were hugging with tears in their eyes.
“You didn’t change since last year, except for some creases in your forehead … I guess age is responsible for that,” laughed Suzy.
Miriam furrowed her brow. “You know, wrinkles can be because of age or … because of worries.”
Suzy sensed that something was not right. Her mother looked worried. She always came looking cheerful and when asked how she was she would say, “Hodu L’Hashem ki tov.” Although her life wasn’t easy – her husband had died and she was living alone with her son Jacques, Miriam had strong faith and always looked at the positive side of life.
Something worrisome must have happened, thought Suzy, and she decided to wait for the right moment to bring it up.
***
They sat in Suzy’s living room on the blue leather couches. On the table were glass dishes with fresh, homemade cookies which her mother particularly liked. Next to them were two cups of hot coffee, just the way her mother liked it.
“How are you Mama? How is it in France? How is Jacques doing?” Suzy asked. She and her mother had a long conversation about everything, the family, work, how the Jews of France were faring, news in Eretz Yisroel, etc.
The hours passed without their realizing it. It began to grow dark and Suzy turned on a light. She felt the time had come and she looked directly into her mother’s eyes and said, “Please tell me. I sense that something is wrong. Something is worrying you. Please don’t hide it from me.”
“You can’t be fooled. They say that a mother has a heart that feels what is going on with her children, while you have the heart of a daughter who always feels her mother …”
Suzy smiled modestly and waited.
Miriam sighed. “It’s Jacques. I hardly see him. What’s the problem – you can’t spend time with your mother? But that’s the least of it. He has a girlfriend … not Jewish … I tried to talk to him about it but got nowhere. Jacques, as always, is stubborn. They are already planning a wedding and do you know where they want to live? In my house! Can you see me living with a gentile woman?”
Miriam couldn’t stop her tears.
For some reason, Suzy did not look particularly worried.
“I see that you are not disturbed by this news,” said Miriam in surprise.
“Of course it’s terrible, but I am thinking of a solution. We will write to the Rebbe and it will be okay.”
Even before Miriam could hesitate, the Igros Kodesh was brought to the table and Miriam began to write, pouring out her heart as though to a beloved father.
They put the letter into the Igros Kodesh translated into French where they opened to a letter in which the Rebbe writes, “support the institutions of my father-in-law.” The Rebbe later referred to the center in Chicago.
Suzy jumped up. “There’s the answer! It’s simple. We’ll send a donation to the Chabad mosdos in Chicago and then we will be in the Rebbe’s good hands.”
Miriam wasn’t as enthusiastic as Suzy.
“What’s the connection between a donation to Chicago and Jacques’ girlfriend? I think we need to put the letter in again.”
Suzy explained that sometimes we don’t see a connection but if the Rebbe said something, we need to do as he says.
Miriam insisted on writing to the Rebbe again.
They opened the Igros Kodesh again and were amazed when they read: In response to your letter … I think I already wrote you that it would be worthwhile to start increasing your share in the distribution of the Vaad HaYeshivos in Chicago…”
“How did the Rebbe know this is the second time?” Miriam couldn’t get over it.
“You see?” exclaimed Suzy, “That tells you that we need to do what the Rebbe said earlier, to give tz’daka to Chabad mosdos in Chicago.”
“How much should be given? I am willing to give whatever is needed, the main thing being that Jacques not marry that non-Jew.”
“Donate what you can,” said Suzy.
Miriam wanted the Rebbe to say how much to give. She decided to open the Igros Kodesh yet again and committed to giving whatever amount appeared there.
They put the letter into volume two of the Igros Kodesh translated into French and this time too, the letter was amazing. It said, “Enclosed is a receipt for twenty-five shekels.”
“It’s clear. Give a donation and it will work out,” said Suzy and she went to find the fax number of the Chabad mosdos in Chicago.
They sent a fax and asked how to send a donation. The yeshiva was happy to hear from them because every donation was needed.
Miriam sent an envelope with twenty-five shekels plus some more.
A few months went by but nothing changed. Now and then, Miriam would call Suzy and ask, “Where is the Rebbe’s bracha?” But Suzy would calm her.
“It’s just a matter of time, Mama. In the end, it will work out with Hashem’s help. You will see! When the Rebbe says something, it’s fulfilled.”
Not long afterward, Jacques became seriously sick with meningitis. Relatives prayed a lot for him and, thank G-d, he recovered.
After that, something changed. He wasn’t the same Jacques his mother knew. He became warmer and he renewed his relationship with the family and began taking an interest in Judaism. New mezuzos were put up in their home and then, one day, he informed his mother that he was leaving his girlfriend.