The kallah didn’t like what she was hearing. Not at all

The Background

My friend Rabbi Yaakov Kupperwasser shared this story that he heard from the kallah’s brother-in-law.

O

ne winter evening, my wife’s sister Ilana got engaged at the tender age of 21. Everyone in the family was overjoyed — including her 32-year-old brother Avi, who was long past brooding over other people’s simchahs, even though he was still waiting to meet his other half. In short order, we were taking pictures at the vort, and within a few months, we were celebrating at the wedding.

The days following the wedding passed in classic sheva brachos haze. On Friday morning, the phone rang — it was the chassan’s mother, with a very long list of demands for my mother-in-law. By the time she managed to end the conversation and get off the phone, my mother-in-law was so upset she didn’t think she would be capable of saying one word to the chassan’s mother during Shabbos sheva brachos.

“Make sure I’m sitting on the opposite side of the hall,” she muttered to my father-in-law, who got along well with his mechutan and was not happy about this drama.

I prepared a steaming mug of coffee for my mother-in-law, just as she likes it, and served it to her with a piece of cake. She took a sip of the coffee and a bite of the cake, but she was having a hard time holding back tears. It wasn’t long before they came out in a torrent of emotion.

Just then we heard the front door open and we heard the newlyweds walking in, blissfully unaware of the scene playing out in the kitchen. That changed the moment Ilana saw her mother sitting at the kitchen table, crying.

“Ma, what happened?”

My mother-in-law tried pushing her off, but Ilana would have none of it, and she insisted on hearing the whole story. I felt bad for her chassan, Shuey, but he didn’t he didn’t seem fazed — maybe this was an old story for him.

But the kallah didn’t like what she was hearing. Not at all.

“Let me get this straight,” she began. “My mother and mother-in-law can’t talk to one another — which basically means the atmosphere at my Shabbos sheva brachos will be ruined. Ma, please forget about what she said and let’s not let one conversation mess up everything. You’ve gotten along just fine until now. I don’t want everyone to remember my Shabbos sheva brachos as your fight with Shuey’s mother!”

“I know,” my mother-in-law replied, “but what if I take one look at her face and start bawling again?”

Then the kallah had a brainstorm.

“Ma, you’re going to have to be mevater! This is an eis ratzon! Right now you’re upset and embarrassed. You need to tell Hashem that you’re taking all of these painful feelings and tossing them overboard, and in return, all you want is for your 32-year-old son to get engaged. Can you do that? Can you do that for Avi?!”

At that moment a change came over my mother-in-law. Sitting up in her seat, she looked heavenward.

“Hashem,” my mother-in-law said, “I am completely mochel my mechuteneste for everything that just transpired — and I am asking You to please send a shidduch for my Avi.”

The moment she finished davening, she was smiling again.

“Where should I seat us?” my shver asked her.

“Anywhere you want,” she replied.

Right after sheva brachos were over, Avi went out with a girl named Dassy. He dated her five times, and they got engaged.

I had a chance to schmooze with him a bit before the vort.

“Tell me,” I asked him, “when did your shidduch with Dassy come up?”

He looked at me and smiled. “On Friday afternoon — right before Ilana’s Shabbos sheva brachos.”

Names have been changed

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1047)