The Purim spirit was ALIVE. The streets in Lakewood were bustling with Mishloach Manos deliveries. Going from his chavrusa to his rosh yeshiva, and then to his rosh chabura, Yakov was happy to meet up with many old-time friends and distant cousins, and to catch up with them.
Leaving his rosh chabura’s house, Yakov saw a boy holding a tefillin bag that read “Yissachar Janowitz.” That is not a common name, Yakov thought, and he was good friends with the Janowitz’s from Deal, NJ. He was happy to meet up with one of them. “Are you related to Janowitz’s from Deal?” Yakov asked.
“No,” came the response. “It’s actually not even mine. We were just sitting in a taxi coming here, and we noticed a pair of tefillin sitting on the seat. After inquiring from the driver, he confirmed that the previous passenger left it there. You’re welcome to seek its owner. I don’t know what to do with it.”
“One minute,” said Yakov. He pulled out his phone, dialed his mother, and recounted the story. Shortly after, his mother called back, saying that she had just reached out to the Janowitz’s, and they confirmed that it was their son’s lost tefillin. Over the last hour, he’d been trying to track down the taxi — to no avail. His mother told him that she was coming to Lakewood later in the afternoon for the Purim seudah and that she’d be happy to return it right to them.
Later in the day, Yakov was glad to hand-deliver the package to his mother so that the tefillin would be returned to their owner. Through Divine orchestration, Hashem had planned that Yissachar’s lost tefillin would be noticed by a Deal resident and be returned to his front-door so that Yissachar could strap on his own pair the very next day.
