My friends and I had an amazing camp up North, organized by the yeshivah. It was simply an incredible experience. In the morning we davened vasikin with the rising of the sun by one of the kivrei tzaddikim in the North; the sounds of Torah echoed through the campus where we were staying; and in between it all we vacationed and got to know each other and the staff from a different perspective.
On Wednesday, 26 Av, during the last week of bein hazmanim, the camp came to an end, and we all boarded the busses to Bnei Brak and to Yerushalayim, happy to be going home.
“Dear bachurim,” the head counselor announced, “the busses will bring you to the city, and from the bus stop you’ll have to get home on your own. The bus will not be making stops in the city!”
We’re big boys. We can certainly manage. We could call our father to take us by car, if possible. We could walk, or we could take another bus in the city. The possibilities were many, and this was not meant to pose a problem.
I live in Telz Stone, and all I need is a 182 bus line to take me from the Central Bus Station in Yerushalayim to my home. So simple.
But it’s a long ride from the Galil area in the North, and by the time we reached the bus stop in Yerushalayim we discovered that there were no longer any public busses running, and while we were sitting at the bus stop and yawning, the bus drivers were asleep for the night.
What should we do?
There were several of us from Kiryat Ye’arim, and each of us brought up a different idea for how to get home. I said that perhaps there was a chance that at the final stop leaving the city we would still make the last bus. And if not, then Hashem could definitely send a car our way that was headed for Kiryat Ye’arim. My friends were not convinced, so I walked alone in the direction of the exit from Yerushalayim. I davened to Hashem to help me, knowing that He is the King of the world, and He rules over the highways and over the transportation. I asked Him to help me succeed in coming home with my large suitcase. I kept speaking in tefillah to our Father in Shamayim the whole time.
I reached the last bus stop very late, and right there, at 2 a.m., an hour after public bus transportation had stopped, a 182 bus was approaching the stop.
I signaled to the driver, and he stopped, all apologetic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been here an hour ago, and now it’s almost 2 a.m. I’m sorry for the delay.” He apologized again and again, but I knew why he had come late. He had to take me, and I had arrived at the station only now! The bus had ample room, both for me and for my large suitcase.
The ride was quiet and quick, all the way to my home.
Thank You, Hashem!
