I flash back to those dark days after the shidduch fell through the gray escape to Eretz Yisrael followed by the sun breaking through again finally weeks after my return. I’d only just gotten my smile back the bounce had just returned to my step when the shadchan called. She was hesitant sensitive after all the heartache. But she was determined. He wanted to try again. Would I give him another chance?

First I hung up. Then I cried. Called my mother. Cried again. Then I called the shadchan and said okay. One more time. As if I’d had to think about it, this quiet acknowledgment of the gift Hashem was giving me, settling the wheels in place to bring me my bashert, this time at the right place, the right time.

I married him. He came into my world once more, the peaceful, quiet, deep blue sea of life to my spontaneous, emotional waves of heart and soul. He proposed after three weeks, and ten weeks later we were wed. Just like that.

And after a year and a half, I still can’t believe he found me once more, still can’t believe it all happened, in the blink of an eye, and it’s happened to me. Me, the single, lonely girl who thought she’d never get married. Ha! If only I’d known what was in store. I guess that’s the key though — we never do know.

Shmuel’s pacifier falls out his mouth, and suddenly tired, he bursts out into wails. I rub his back, watching him in awe, knowing this automatic act will never become ordinary for me. Not with the life I’ve led, the life I lead now. I think of the lonely days and the aching heart. Of the tears, and tefillos, and most of all, the big gaping hole of not knowing — not knowing when I would, if ever, meet the right one. Not knowing when I would be able to start a family, if I could, if I would.

I hear the front door open and close, followed by my husband calling out. “Hello, hello!” Yay, Abba’s home! I grin at Shmuel before we swing into the living room, and he rewards me with a dazzling smile, his excitement mirroring my own.

Yaakov closes the door, hat in hand, fresh from yeshiva and the rain, shaking off the droplets as he hangs up his jacket. He looks up with a smile, and almost immediately I relax, taking in the calm that he radiates, tension leaving my shoulders.

And after that we sail on the waters of the evening; first through dinner, then through bedtime for Shmuel, an uneventful routine that still holds wonderment for us both, this unremarkable activity that goes on in every home, and now in our own too.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 500)