HoRav Yechiel Tzuker, shlita, relates a powerful story which sends a critical message concerning what should be our understanding of events to which we are “partial” (because we only see part) spectators. Darkei Miriam is an organization based in Yerushalayim, which, among its many chesed activities, also transports gravely ill patients of all ages, together with family members, to medical centers for required treatment.
One of its drivers, who do everything on a purely voluntary basis, related the following story. He first picked up a man who was seriously ill to be taken to a Hadasah hospital. Aside from his illness, or perhaps as a result of his illness, he was dealing with a host of other issues: economic, family, neighbor issues. When one is depressed, due to pain and fear of the future, everything appears bleak.
This man entered the car with his “baggage,” his laundry list of tzaros, troubles, and his “questions,” “complaints” concerning why Hashem would do all this to him. This is not unusual; in fact, it is more understandable than one who walks around with a perpetual smile, acquiescing to everything that he is experiencing. We are human, and such is a human reaction.
On his way, the driver received a call from a dispatcher asking him to pick up a mother and her very ill young daughter from an address in Meah She’arim. They picked up the mother and her three-year-old who showed signs of illness. The man continued his harangue about his miserable life and why Hashem would do this to him.
The mother listened patiently as long as she could. Finally, she asked “permission” to speak. “My daughter was diagnosed a year ago with a fast-spreading form of cancer. The only hope for recovery was to receive a one-time treatment which is the only such treatment effective for this dread disease. It must be administered within thirty days in order for it to be effective. Otherwise, it is worthless, and my daughter’s life is in grave danger, since no other cure exists for this form of illness.
“We called the hospital, who said the earliest available appointment was in two months. We called around, spent every penny we had and that we could borrow; we used every ounce of protekizia we had, until finally we were granted a spot in twenty-seven days at 8:30 A.M. following eight hours of total fasting – not even water.
“Try explaining to a three-year-old girl that she cannot have her bottle of chocolate milk when she wakes up, or no cereal. It had to be done, and I was the “bad” mother who wanted her to live.
“My daughter did not understand the excuses. I had to hold on to her to make sure she did not grab food or water. At last, it was 8:00 A.M., and we entered the taxi on our way to the hospital. In a short time, she would once again be able to have her chocolate milk. My daughter, however, simply could not wait. She cried; she begged – but I was compelled to turn a deaf ear to her. It would only be a few more minutes.
“I turned my head for a moment, as the porter delivering breakfast to the patients walked by with her cart. In the flash of an eye, my daughter jumped up and grabbed a piece of bread and put it into her mouth! I became wild with fright, fighting with my precious little girl who was starving. I stuck my fingers into her mouth and dug out every crumb of bread! The people in the lobby that were watching me must have thought I was a deranged mother who was starving her child. Indeed, it was my quick actions that allowed her to receive the coveted and vital treatment.”
She looked at the man who had been complaining, and said, “You did not ask me how I could be such an unfeeling mother to put her fingers in her little girl’s mouth and grab every last crumb of bread, because you know the truth: it was for her benefit. We are little children, Hashem’s little children. He knows far better what is best for us. We have questions because we are unaware of the past and the future. He knows – and He knows best!”
Reprinted from the Parshas Ki Teitzei 5785 email of Peninim on the Torah.
