This is what you learn on the 41st day: He is not me, He is bigger, the world you live in is His

When I called to wish her mazel tov, my friend said, “It was such Hashgachah. I was doing the forty days, and on our second date my chassan finished his forty days, and my mother’s forty days finished the night of our vort. It was so clear.”

I do not know the G-d of the 40 days.

I am not engaged yet. If I had things my way I would be married with a family now.

The first time I dated was in May, a few years ago. On the first date I walked down the stairs on clouds of glory: This is it. We went out four times. It wasn’t it.

The next time I dated was February. Again, the heady feeling, the padding of my heels against the carpeted stairs, then walking to the front hallway: I am meeting my chassan! We went out six times. He said no and I withered. I did not want to move.

But life moves even when you do not want to. One 40 days follows another and still—

Shadchan calls.

Boy is redt.

References called.

Yes is said.

And you walk down the stairs—