Well over a thousand people came by to wish Mazel Tov to the proud and exhausted father. The food supply ran out in short order as did the drinks, but no one seemed to mind. At the height of the celebration, the crowd quieted down as the father indicated that he would like to say a few words. He began in a loud voice, “Thank you all for coming and sharing in the joyous celebration. Although I have no more food to offer, let me at least tell over a story which I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”
The ecstatic new father composed himself and continued. “When I was still an unmarried student learning in the Yeshiva (Rabbinical School), there was a cleaning lady who would come by every day to tidy up and scrub the study hall and adjoining rooms. She was a fixture in the yeshiva and devoted her life to maintaining the building. She was, however, not a wealthy person by any stretch and as her own family grew she was at a loss of options as far as taking care of her children. She decided to bring her kids with her to work, and as she cleaned and mopped in one area of the building, the young children would run amuck, screaming, crying and generally causing quite a commotion, in the rest of the yeshiva. At first, we put up with it; we even thought it was cute for a time. But after a while, the kids really began to disrupt us in our learning. Try as we might to control them, they wouldn’t listen and continued on in their childish games and noise. A number of younger students asked me, as one of the oldest in the group to ask her not to bring her children anymore to the school.
“I agreed to talk to her and I brazenly walked up to her and told her that her kids were disturbing everyone and she should find some sort of alternative method of child-care for them. I’ll never forget how she looked at me with tired eyes and said, ‘Young man , you should never have the pain and anguish that one goes through when raising children.’
The crowd gasped.
“As many of you know,” continued the father, “my wife and I have been to countless doctors who’ve recommended every sort of treatment. We moved abroad for awhile to be near an ‘expert’ which proved to be fruitless. One last, extreme treatment was offered and after trying that, it too, turned out to be just a fantasy; we felt doomed to a life without the pleasure of raising a family.
“After that last attempt, as we walked back into the apartment that we lived in for the past twenty-eight years, our entire sad situation hit us full force, like a ton of bricks. Together, we broke down crying, trying to figure out why G-d was testing us this way.
“All of a sudden, I remembered the episode with the cleaning lady and the “blessing” she had given me. It occurred to me to try and reach her and ask for forgiveness. But after all these years, who knows where she would be?
“I spent hours on the phone until I came up with an address, which I ran over to immediately. She did not recog
Beaming from ear to ear, the father announced, “That took place exactly nine months ago!”
(©2017. Printed with permission from Rabbi Baruch Lederman, author of Shulweek www.kehillastorah.