I am a young avreich living in London. Over a year ago, when I reached the age of shidduchim, my parents bought me a new hat. Baruch Hashem, I was married within the year, and in honor of the wedding I got a new hat, and the older one remained in my parents’ home.
The older hat was in excellent condition, since I had worn it for only about a year, and when I came to my parents’ home for Pesach, my parents asked me to take it with me. “Do whatever you want with it,” my mother said. It was just taking up space in their house.
I took the hat, knowing that it was totally extra for me as well. I have only one head, baruch Hashem. I left my parents’ home and met the neighbor, who works as a melamed in the neighborhood cheder. I asked him, “Do you have any use for this hat?”
“Yes,” the melamed answered simply. “The children will be very happy with it.”
He was happy, I was happy, his children would be happy, and of course my mother was happy too.
A while later, when I came to visit my parents again, I met that neighbor, and he told me about the gilgulim the hat had gone through after I gave it to him:
After Pesach, before the third of Iyar, my friend from America landed here in London. He called me from the airport with a problem. “My hat disappeared,” he said. “Would you be able to get me a spare in the meantime?”
“I have an excellent hat at home,” I answered him. “I got it from a neighbor who was thinking of throwing it out, but it is in excellent condition. Come over to see if it fits you.”
He came, and I was thrilled with the surprise visit. He tried on the hat and discovered that it fit him even better than the one that had gotten lost. He’s continuing with this hat to Kerestir, and from there he’ll be flying home.”
Instead of the hat being squashed in the garbage somewhere, hashgachah brought it to grace the head of a Yid who was going to daven at kivrei tzaddikim. Who knows, perhaps to this day he is walking around wearing my hat, may it be for many long, healthy years.
