We arrived at the bus stop with the entire family, and there was a large van that did not belong to the company. The driver was a handicapped woman who was looking for a family of mostly women and girls to come with her and pay for her gas.
Our family fit the bill perfectly. The cost of gas alone was even less than the cost of travel by public transportation. There was ample room for all the suitcases, and we set out on our way. “I don’t have a license to get up the mountain,” the driver said, “but I have a handicapped card, so I hope we’ll be okay.”
The trip went smoothly. The driver asked if she could make a stop at the kever of Rabi Meir Baal Hanes, and this was a wonderful opportunity for us to daven “Elaka d’Meir aneini.” The tziyun was empty; only our family was there, and davening there was very emotional for us.
As we drove on, we started passing through the roadblocks on the way up to Meron. “Daven, daven,” the driver encouraged us all. She had ways of dodging the police. She told us to say the passuk:
“הפתח למצוא וילאו...בסנוורים הכו הבית פתח אשר האנשים ואת”
At every checkpoint, the policemen saw she was a handicapped driver and they let her pass through, but at the seventh one the officer took too much of an interest. He asked to see her license and then told her, “Go to Ezer Mizion”
The driver didn’t give up. She made a U-turn and went in the direction of Meron again. The entire time, she encouraged us to daven and to say segulos. I gave tzedakah, and this time the officer was busy with a phone call, and the young policeman who was with him allowed us through.
At the last blockade they stopped us again, but the driver told the policeman, “I am a handicapped woman. I’m going up to daven by Rabi Shimon. Give me your name and I’ll daven for you!”
He gave her his name and his mother’s name, and he let her through.
I knew this was not the wisdom of the driver, nor was it my wisdom. All this hatzlachah was the mercy of Hakadosh Baruch Hu.
On the mountain, the driver drove us right up to the entrance of the apartment we would start renting that evening, and were already allowed to place our luggage there.
We arrived at 3:30 p.m. The entire mountain was like a huge bonfire. Excited dancing in honor of the holy Tanna Rabi Shimon filled the streets and the area of the tziyun. At this stage people were no longer only in the tziyun itself; the dancing was all around.
We cut our son’s hair with great emotion, and my family had an excellent, comfortable view of the scene.
It was a very moving scene. My young son was given the appearance of a Yid – two peyos and a kippah, his face shining with overwhelming thanks to Hashem. Tefillah, tefillah, and more tefillah.
Do I need to tell you what was going on there in Meron? Anyone who has been there knows. It’s a simchah that comes from the world of neshamos, from the heichalos of song and teshuvah, tears of thanksgiving and prayer. We submerged ourselves there in the Gan Eden of Meron, all comfortably and calmly. We were in no hurry and had no worries, because we were staying on the mountaintop for Shabbos kodesh.
On Motzaei Shabbos, still on a high from the experience, we wanted to get back home to Yerushalayim. We weren’t the only ones who were stuck there. Many families came to the stop. On every bus that passed, the passengers converged and rushed in to take the seats inside. I didn’t feel that I could push. Here too I asked Hashem with almost the same words: “Please help me get home in the most convenient and least expensive way.” I went over to the person in charge and asked him how many busses were supposed to be coming.
“It doesn’t matter how many busses; no one will be stranded at this stop. Everyone is going to get home. I’ll order a bus to come here even if there’s only one person left!”
I told my family, “We’re not going to push. We’ll wait patiently and go calmly onto the last bus, im yirtzeh Hashem!”
Indeed, it didn’t happen immediately, but it was worth the wait. We went like royalty onto the last bus and spread ourselves over the seats, and when I wanted to pay, I found that the bus had no machine that takes payment. It was impossible to validate. And when you can’t, the law says you don’t have to pay. “The least expensive and the most convenient.”
In honor of the simchah my father-in-law gave me $200. My father also gave us a nice sum as a form of participation in the big day. When we got home after this special event, we felt as though something truly unusual had occurred, a hug from Shamayim. We saw how Hashem watched over us with special hashgachah pratis and took us all the way to Meron and back in the most incredible way. We are so grateful, and I, with my small head, could not hold back from making an accounting and checking how much the whole thing cost us.
Nu, how much? I counted the money I received from my father and from my father-in-law, calculated the expenses I had, and discovered that everything worked out exactly. No plusses or minuses, but one big, precise zero.
The least expensive and the most convenient.
That’s how it is – so simple. The passuk “Take pleasure with Hashem, and He will give you the desires of your heart” was fulfilled for us. Rashi explains that one will “take pleasure in tafnukim – luxuries, relying on Hakadosh Baruch Hu.”
And that is our story. We reveled in the luxuries Hashem prepared for us.
