My story took place one day during a traffic jam in Eretz Yisrael. There were probably many people who saw special hashgachah pratis on that day – how the traffic jam was the best thing that could have happened to them, or how, despite the traffic jam, they managed to get to where they were going on time.
I have the zechus of delivering two shiurim in two different places every day. I have a regular taxi driver who takes me to the first shiur, which starts at 7:55 a.m. and ends at 8:55. Right afterward, I get into a taxi with the same driver and continue on to the second shiur, which also begins at an exact hour.
On that particular day, they informed me that the second shiur would not be taking place. “We have an event,” the gabbai explained, “and we won’t be able to have the shiur.”
I called the driver and asked him to take me only to the first shiur. The road was full of traffic and the ride took longer than expected, so I arrived at the shiur at 8:02 – seven minutes late.
I apologized lightly and started teaching. The people were listening, enthralled, and I thanked Hashem, Who had put the right words in my mouth. Meanwhile, I was having an internal argument with myself: On the one hand, it would be right for me to continue the shiur and make up for the minutes I’d missed in the beginning, but on the other hand, how could I keep my driver waiting? I didn’t wait too long to hear out the argument between the two voices in my head. I davened to Hashem to help me do right by everyone, and I did my part – I delivered the shiur for a full hour.
At a certain stage, the driver came to the entrance of the shul. This was a clear sign that I was to finish up and join him for the ride. A light glance at my watch showed me that he was definitely right. It was 9:05 – ten minutes later than the time we’d arranged to meet.
I finished and went out to the taxi. Words of apology hovered on my lips, but the driver preceded me, saying, “Look what kind of people there are around here... there was a driver who blocked me with his car, and for ten minutes I wasn’t able to get out of the parking lot!”
I laughed and told him, “He was my messenger. I told him to hold you up so that I could finish my shiur...”
He laughed, but I immediately corrected myself – “He was a messenger of Hashem, to enable me to make up the minutes I missed in the beginning of the shiur.”
Look how many chassadim are hidden in this story: The shiur started late exactly on the day that the second shiur was cancelled; min haShamayim I was able to make up the minutes I missed in the beginning of the shiur without even realizing that during all those minutes the driver was held up in the parking lot.
