Ms. Chevi Garfinkel
Traveling Notes
רוח והצלה יעמוד ליהודים ממקום אחר
Relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from some other place (Esther 4:14)
As I was offered to speak at a Shabbaton in Cincinnati, I mentally noted that I had to prepare for three speeches – Friday night, Shabbat day and Seudat Shlishit. Assuming that I would have enough time to gather my thoughts together before that Shabbat, I didn’t immediately get to work. I instead pushed it off.
After hearing that I would be in Cincinnati for Shabbat, I knew I needed to make a phone call. For nearly a decade, a close friend of mine had constantly badgered me to come visit her in Cincinnati. I had told her in the past that if she would find someone to fly me in to speak, I would gladly spend some time with her. But that idea never came to fruition. We instead stayed miles apart and never saw each other. But now I would finally get the opportunity. Or at least I thought so.
Giving her a call, she was beside herself. “Chevi, I don’t believe you! You are the most talented nudnick I ever met! You picked the one Shabbat when I am not home.” She had to attend a conference and would be unavailable to host me. Now I was stuck. But being the caring woman my friend is, she made alternative arrangements for me. She coordinated that someone would pick me up from the airport and a family would host for me for Shabbat.
But then my father took ill and was admitted into the hospital. When that occurred, I began rotating with my other siblings and staying with him over Shabbat. After some time, Baruch Hashem, he was stabilized. But with the Shabbaton inching closer and my time to prepare narrowing, I was still unsure what I was going to say.
My flight was scheduled to leave Thursday night and land at around eleven-thirty in Cincinnati. My hope was to get a good night’s sleep and prepare my speeches some time during Friday. But then that idea failed. As my flight was delayed, I was now expected to land even later than the already late, yet manageable hour of eleven-thirty. But things didn’t get all too better. My flight was delayed yet again. After two such delays and an exhausting flight, I finally arrived in Cincinnati at one-thirty in the morning.
Fatigued to the nth degree, a sweet girl named Peninah, asked by my friend to pick me up, arrived. Taking a seat in the car, I was not in good shape. Now driving to my host’s house late at night, by the time we pulled into their driveway, I was beyond exhausted. But as things were already not going too well, I wasn’t surprised when I was faced with yet another dilemma. Walking up to the door, it was clear that the lights were off and the door was shut. At that point, I nearly cried in laugher.
Turning to Peninah, I said, “So, what about your house?” “Actually,” she said, “I am not originally from Cincinnati; I am from Cleveland. But I am boarding by this lovely family and it is no problem for you to stay overnight.” As soon as she said that, I let out a slight sigh of relief. There was no way I was going to wake up a family I never met before. And so, we got back into the car.
As we continued driving, Peninah turned to me. “You know, you are handling this very well.” Thinking about everything that had gone wrong, I said, “Well, Baruch Hashem, my father is alive and doing well. He is fully functional and has all of his faculties. I feel a tremendous degree of gratitude towards Hashem. And I know that He is the same G-d that is making all of this happen to me. I am therefore not complaining.” As Peninah took in what I had to say, I continued, “My only concern though is what I am going to say at the Shabbaton. I was hoping to arrive in Cincinnati at a reasonable hour and get good night’s sleep so I could prepare tomorrow, but now I am not sure what tomorrow will bring.”
After finishing these words, Peninah immediately chimed in, “I know exactly what you are going to say at the Shabbaton.” Unsure how she would know what I was going to say when I myself had no idea, I sat there perturbed. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I will tell you when we get to the house.”
Pulling up to her house and walking inside, Peninah looked to me. “Miss Garfinkel, let me tell you something. Two years ago, when I was in 12th grade in Cleveland, you came to speak at a Shabbaton. You spoke Friday night, Shabbat day and Seudat Shlishit. After Shabbat, a number of girls came up to you, myself included, and said, ‘We really liked what you said; it was amazing. The only problem is that it was Shabbat and we couldn’t commit anything to writing. Would it be possible to have a copy of your notes?’ As we said this to you, you let out a smile and said, “I would be more than happy to give you a copy of the notes I brought, but I personally think they will not help you too much. What comes out of my mouth is nowhere near what it says on the paper. Some of my speech may be on the paper, but not completely.”
Telling us this, we remained determined. “Well then, could you at least briefly write down the content of your speeches for us?” Hearing our genuine sincerity and eagerness to hold onto the inspiration, you were tremendously touched and impressed. And so you happily complied with our request. With the help of a couple other girls, you began rewriting your notes as we typed them up.”
As Peninah finished telling me this nice story which happened two years ago in Cleveland, I asked her how it would help me now in Cincinnati. But, little did I know, the story was not over.
“You don’t understand,” continued Peninah, “I enjoyed those lectures so much that I actually took the notes with me to Seminary in Israel. And when I left Israel to come to Cincinnati, I as well took them with me. I have the notes right here with me. Here is your speech.”
And with that, she handed me my beautifully typed up speech with notes for Friday night, Shabbat day and Seudat Shlishit.
As I stood there dumbstruck, my mind began to race. I almost felt like apologizing to Peninah for having to drag the notes around the world. But then I realized that the notes I wrote together with those girls two years earlier was not merely for their benefit; it was for my benefit. Hashem was telling me, “You think you are writing the notes only for them? In two years, you are going to experience some rough patches in life and you will need these notes more than ever. And there will be a girl, Peninah, who will travel from Cleveland to Israel to Cincinnati and carry around those notes for you. “Trust Me,” Hashem was saying, “there is a reason for everything.”
In the words of Ms. Garfinkel, “Whenever we experience Hashgacha Pratis (Divine Providence) in our lives, we must take the moment to reflect. Imagine what would have happened had my friend been at home for Shabbat. She would have picked me up and I never would have met Peninah. And imagine if the plane was not delayed. I would never have had such a conversation with Peninah; she would have simply taken me directly to the home of my host. And imagine if I wouldn’t have told her I didn’t know what I was going to speak about… While I may have prepared for this Shabbaton the day before, Hashem was preparing for this Shabbaton two years in advance.”
