Every Thursday morning, one of the large meat stores in Queens sends out many meat orders. Many call in their orders on Wednesday and find their packages neatly wrapped and taped in front of their door on Thursday morning.
One Thursday morning, shortly before Pesach 5784, the manager received a call from a customer complaining that her order was yet to be delivered. The manager reassured her that the order was processed and that the delivery boy would arrive shortly.
Time was ticking, and every few minutes the manager’s phone rang with the lady’s demands only getting louder. It was apparent that someone else had received the order. He tried procrastinating in the hope that the finder would reach out to the store to return the order, but no such call came through.
At 12:15, the manager decided that there was no alternative. He would send out the order again, and hopefully sometime later, the missing order would turn up. Within a few minutes, the delivery boy was driving through the streets with the new order and had it delivered to the correct address.
At 3:00, the manager’s phone rang. On the line was a woman who said that an order was delivered to her door mistakenly. The manager was glad that the misplaced order was located, but now he had a different dilemma. The delivery boy was done for the day, and there was no way the manager himself could leave the store. He asked the lady if she would put the package in the fridge until he could find someone to pick it up. She happily complied.
As day turned into night and the package was still in her fridge, she called the manager to follow up on the pickup. The manager told her, “Just keep the meat. It’s too late to pick it up, and the store will take the loss. I’m assuming that you have already purchased your Shabbos meat and have no need for it, but please figure something out. I can’t busy myself with it.”
Just saying those words, the manager sensed that it triggered something in the woman. She became very emotional. This is what she told him:
“My husband owned a company whose revenue used to cover our monthly expenses comfortably. Some three months ago, business went sour, and he had to close up shop. He laid off twenty employees, and all his investment and its profit fell into thin air, leaving us with nothing but heartache. As the weeks went by, our financial state went from bad to worse. We’ve had to cut out even the basics. This week, I wasn’t sure if we would have meat for Shabbos. There is simply no money. This morning, I woke up and asked Hashem to somehow prepare meat for us. Now I know why this order landed at my doorstep. It wasn’t your mistake; it was Hashem’s plan for us to have meat.”
Learning about this hashgachah, R’ Matis Fried, the manager’s brother-in-law, wanted to share this incredible siyata d’Shmaya with others. He contacted Pardes Shlomo, a hotline followed by tens of thousands, to share this story with its many listeners.
The following Wednesday night, at 11:17, R’ Matis received a call from an unfamiliar number. Surprised as to who would reach out to him at that hour, the caller introduced himself as Moshe from Williamsburg. After confirming that he was R’ Matis, the one who shared the story on Pardes Shlomo, R’ Moshe asked in surprise, “Do you not know the story of the Beis Halevi?”
“Which story? Tell me.”
“The Beis Halevi received a shailah from a woman asking if she could fulfill the daled kosos (the four cups of wine used at the Pesach Seder) with milk. Without answering, the Beis Halevi gathered a large sum of money and handed it to the one who posed the question. The Beis Halevi had understood from her question that she didn’t even have meat for Yom Tov, for certainly one can’t drink milk at the Seder if they’re eating meat! ‘If she doesn’t have the basics, we must supply her with it.’
“Regarding the story that you shared, you see that this family is in trouble. We must do something. Call your brother-in-law, get the woman’s contact info, and we’ll send her money at once. I myself am willing to contribute a significant amount toward her family, but we must do even more. We can’t leave a family like this hanging.”
