A decade ago, I sent an anonymous letter to the Yated. It was a thank-you letter to klal Yisrael. I wanted to reach as many people as possible in klal Yisrael and figured the readership of the Yated was a good way to reach many. A decade ago, a member of my family needed a r’fuah sh’leimah. Doctors were baffled at the disease her body was trying to fight.
She had the honor that no one wants – to be the sickest patient in the hospital. Emails, text messages, and phone calls went out to everyone my family could think of, requesting T’hilim to be said in the z’chus of a r’fuah sh’leimah. Within days, we found out that women had organized “brachah parties,” T’hilim groups, challah baking groups, etc. Men were learning in the z’chus of a r’fuah. Children were davening and learning the brachah of Asher Yatzar so this person – someone they never met or will meet – would have a r’fuah sh’leimah b’karov. And it worked! My family member recovered. She had the new honor of being “the woman who survived.” How could I thank the thousands who took a moment out of their day, let alone hours, in order to help another member of klal Yisrael? So, I wrote in. Weeks passed. I looked through the Yated, checking for my letter. No luck. I stopped looking after a couple of months. Can you imagine my surprise when I was sitting with this particular family member one Erev Shabbos, when she interrupted her friend, with whom she was speaking on the phone, to ask, “Did you write a letter about me? There’s no author’s name, but it’s you, isn’t it?” Guilty as charged.
I am an extreme fan of hakaras ha’tov. I do what I can to help those who have helped me or a loved one. So, when I opened up this email and saw that it was a hakaras ha’tov letter (not to me), I just had to publish it in my column so the proper person can be thanked, and to know that her actions are appreciated more than words can express. The best part of the letter was that the woman whom the letter is written about didn’t have to get involved. She could have checked in a time or two with the letter writer, but could have gone on living her life, not giving the person or situation a second thought. And that wouldn’t have been wrong of her. But this woman wanted to help, wanted to get involved. She made it part of her daily/weekly routine to help the letter writer, and for that, the letter writer feels that all the “thank yous” in the world wouldn’t be enough. She wrote in so readers will be able to see what getting involved – even when you don’t have to – makes a difference in someone’s life. It makes them feel loved and cared for – yes, it’s about shidduchim.
*****
Dear Goldy:
My name is Malka C. and I am writing, hoping you’ll publish my letter. This isn’t the typical type of letter you may be used to reading, but please consider publishing it. I want people to know that a little help from someone can change your perspective on life.
I won’t write my entire story, because it would take up too much space; but basically, I had no one that I was able to count on, on a constant basis when it came to shidduchim. My mother was niftar. My brother and sister were living with their families in Israel. I couldn’t ask my father to get involved because he wouldn’t know where to start or what to do. I didn’t want him to feel incompetent or that he failed me in any way. He is a wonderful father, but the complicated shidduch world is not for him.
Friends, rebbetzins, etc. would redt shidduchim for me. Everyone did her best, but I wasn’t their daughter, so the occasional phone call I received from them was appreciated, but nothing I could count on. At this time, I was 25 and used to doing things on my own, and that included networking wherever I could in the hopes of getting set up with the man I would marry.
One day, I received a call from one of my mother’s best friends, Chaya E. I won’t write her last name because she would kill me. I hadn’t heard from her in a couple of years. I had moved out of my parents’ home and into my own apartment (with a roommate) when I graduated college. The call came after I ran into Chaya in the subway. Afterwards, I kept thinking it was so strange that out of all the people that ride the NYC Subway, I found someone I know and it was nice having a reminder of my mother and the good times.
A few weeks passed and I received a message on my social media from Chaya, asking if we could talk. I sent her my number and now she was calling. She wanted to meet me for coffee and “catch up.” I agreed; we scheduled and met. It turns out that Chaya hadn’t stopped thinking of me either, since our subway reunion. She is aware that I don’t have many women in my life whom I can rely on as one would a mother, and asked if I would mind if she can step in as someone I can turn to whenever I needed. She said that she knew that my mother would want that, and assured me she wouldn’t try to take my mother’s place. Sometimes everyone needs someone to lean on and she would like to be that person. I was speechless. We both sat there with tears in our eyes, and then letting them free-fall down our faces. I couldn’t believe that Chaya, a busy businesswoman with a family in her own right, would want to do this for me. She was a huge part of my childhood because of the bond she shared with my mother, but this? It came out of the blue. But until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone to lean on. I just wrote that I’m used to being independent, at home, at work, etc., but sometimes it gets to be too much.
Beginning then, I contacted Chaya weekly and then almost daily (depending on the situation. I called, texted, and DM’d. At first it felt odd. But soon it felt like this was a normal thing to do. During one of the calls, Chaya told me of a shidduch club her neighbors were starting and wanted to know if she can present me and help me with dating. I hadn’t told her, but I was in a dating slump and was touched that she wanted to do this for me. Giving life advice is one thing, but acting on my behalf in the shidduch world was more than I would have been able to ask her. For months, not a week went by when a shidduch, or meeting a shadchan, wasn’t included in our conversations. She even stood with me for hours when a well-known rebbetzin visited Brooklyn to ask for a brachah. When it was my turn, Chaya came in with me. I don’t speak Yiddish. Chaya spoke with the Rebbetzin briefly. I got the gist of their conversation but was missing huge parts. Chaya held my hand while they spoke. I was speechless when the Rebbetzin hugged me and sent me away with many brachos. The experience had me crying. Later, I asked Chaya what she specifically said to the Rebbetzin. “I spoke about you,” she responded, and didn’t elaborate.
I don’t know how many shadchanim Chaya had me meet, but I met many. During this time, Chaya’s daughter became a kallah. But that didn’t stop Chaya from helping me: “What? Am I cooking the smorg or sewing the gowns myself? We don’t stop.” Chaya and her family had treated me like a daughter/sister, but now with a chupah coming up, I just expected her attentions to be elsewhere. Chaya never stopped being my second mother.
I am happy to tell everyone that I am a kallah now, with Chaya’s and Hashem’s help. Chaya told me right away that she would help me when and if I wanted, but if I preferred my sister’s or friend’s help, she would understand. She didn’t want to push it too hard. I couldn’t believe what she said: “Don’t pull back now!” I yelled at her. Chaya and her daughters are right there when I ask for help making wedding arrangements and trying to set up a home. She has also always been in touch with my sister. Chaya felt that my sister wanted to do more for me but wasn’t able to because of the distance. Chaya includes my sister in every step along the way. I am close with my sister, but it’s difficult with the time difference and our work schedules.
Chaya: Words can’t do justice to what I want to say to you and your family. Our chance meeting in the subway wasn’t a coincidence. Hashem and my mother had a hand in it. I was doing okay until I met you, but you made me realize that I wasn’t okay. I needed to feel loved and included. I needed a push and someone to keep pushing me through the ups and downs, especially with shidduchim. You built my confidence and had me feeling good about myself, because I wasn’t on my own; I had you and your family. You didn’t have to make that call and meet me for coffee, but you did. You didn’t have to become as involved in my life as you became, but you did. I can’t imagine that many people would do what you and your family have done for me. I have two families: yours and my biological family. I love you both, but your family is here and can show me how much I’m loved and how much I count. You will always play an important part in my life, and hopefully, im yirtzeh Hashem, a role in my family.
With love and hakaras ha’tov,
Malka C.
*****
I will not write a response. I want Malka’s letter to speak for itself. (But I did email and speak on the phone with Malka.)
Hatzlachah to you all!
Goldy Krantz is an LMSW and a lifelong Queens resident, guest lecturer, and author of the shidduch dating book, The Best of My Worst and children’s book Where Has Zaidy Gone? She can be contacted at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..
