Hey everyone! My name is Levi Yitzchak, and I live in Yerushalayim.
It was bein hazmanim, summer vacation, and we were partying late into the night. Why not, after all, when there was no need to wake up in time for the van or to make it to cheder at 8:30? We could stay up schmoozing and playing at night and sleep in a little in the morning. And that's what we did.
Actually, the entire family was in what we called bein-hazmanim mode, and on most mornings the house was blissfully quiet, with most of us asleep until at least nine.
That Monday morning, however, was different. It was because of my eight-year-old sister Chaya, who'd fallen and broken several teeth a few weeks earlier. She had a treatment scheduled, part of a series of treatments she was undergoing at Hadassah Ein Kerem Hospital to “put her mouth back in shape," as my mother called it. Her appointment was set for 8 a.m., which, in retrospect, was a really unearthly hour for a family in bein-hazmanim mode. But what could my mother do? Those appointments were scheduled weeks in advance and were very difficult to change.
At 7:50 a.m. I was blissfully asleep under my thin summer blanket, the fan blowing straight into my face, just as I liked it. As if in a dream, I heard my mother gasp.
“Chaya!” she said in a sleep-fogged voice. “We overslept. We have to rush.”
“Chaya,” she repeated, “get dressed quickly. I'll order a taxi. We can't miss your appointment.”
I put the blanket back over my head and willed myself back to sleep, but in the background I could hear the rushing, the tension in my mother's voice, and finally, what seemed like hours later, the honking of the taxi downstairs, the slamming of the door, and...quiet.
I stole a glance at the alarm clock at my side. It was already 8:40, and I knew the ride to the hospital would take Mommy and Chaya at least twenty minutes. I couldn't help but think about them, and right then and there, I said Modeh Ani and immediately uttered my own private tefillah to Hashem.
“Please let it work out for them with the appointment!”
By the time I was back from davening and eating a leisurely vacation brunch it was 11:30, and Mommy and Chaya were back, looking tired but pleased.
“What happened with your appointment?” I asked. “You left the house really late.”
Mommy chuckled. “Let me tell you about hashgachah pratis,” she said. “You can tell it over on the Hashgachah phone line today.”
“What happened?” I repeated curiously.
“We arrived at the hospital over an hour after our scheduled appointment,” Mommy began. “I was embarrassed to come in. Knowing how tightly packed the schedule is at the hospital clinic, I was sure the secretary would tell us off or refuse to let us in. But what happened was something else entirely. We walked into the waiting room, and a few steps behind us was the professor we were coming to see. He was holding his attaché case and looked like he'd been running. Seeing me and Chaya sitting in the waiting room, he immediately apologized for being late.”
Mommy laughed. “Of course, I forgave him very easily,” she said with a wink, “and several moments later, they told us to come in.”
“When Hashem wills it,” she concluded, “He can put the professor on vacation mode too!”