The little girl decided she would go every day to the Kosel for 40 days and daven for a yeshuah for someone

As the number of infections grew, the Israeli government felt their only recourse was a near-total shutdown. For the first time in the peacetime history of the country, schools were closed.

The chadarim responded in various ways. There was no choice, however, for the girls of Bais Yaakov. With small classrooms and class sizes sometimes topping 40 talmidos, the Bais Yaakovs were forced to suspend all classes.

For one young fifth-grader, who loves learning and davening, the inability to be in Bais Yaakov was painful. The girl, who resides in the Old City, is precocious and curious, and the lack of spiritual nourishment was causing boredom.

At the peak of the shutdown, even the Kosel had minimal access for the general public. For the Jewish residents of the Old City, however, no limitations existed.

Given that she had unfettered entry to the Kosel, her father suggested that she take advantage of her carte blanche access to the Makom Hamikdash and daven for those denied such a privilege.

The young girl embraced the idea and sought out a specific goal for her tefillos. She realized how fortunate she was to be able to daven daily at a place where so many Jews all over the world yearned to daven. Someone mentioned to her the potency of davening at the Kosel for 40 days straight. The little girl decided she would go every day to the Kosel for 40 days and daven for a yeshuah for someone.

Our little davener began her trek down to the Wall a week after Pesach. Outfitted with her own siddur, Tehillim, and Techinos, the little girl joined her father at sunrise and they headed to the Kosel together.

Each day her father would return home after 45 minutes. But our 11-year-old davener would stay at the Kosel for up to two hours, slowly davening and even more slowly, saying Tehillim. She would carefully enunciate each and every word, and often tears streamed down her face as the words of Dovid Hamelech penetrated her heart and moved her to tears. Her goal was to finish Tehillim twice by Shavuos.

Nothing could deter her. Her determination and her stamina were the stuff legends are made of. She became a fixture at the Kosel, and all the old women who gather at the Kosel at sunrise would wait for the little red-haired girl and save her a choice seat by the Wall. The guards at the entrance to the Kosel Plaza addressed her by name as they said good morning. And even when the temperature hovered at 100 degrees by Shavuos, she remained steadfast in her mission.

Who can predict and understand the ways of the Ultimate Planner? Who can say with assurance which mitzvah tipped the scales for the yeshuah to occur?

I certainly cannot. I can only marvel at His ways and leave the computations for those greater than I.

As our protagonist neared the end of her 40-day commitment, the Master yeshuah-maker was planting the seeds.

When Shavuos came and went, our young Tehillim davener rededicated herself with even greater zeal to her tefillos, techinos, and Tehillim.

His ways are hidden; however, as the fervent pitch of the Tehillim increased throughout the summer months, flowers were blossoming six thousand miles away.

Two weeks before Rosh Hashanah, the family from Los Angeles celebrated their personal yeshuah.

Many great people had said many tefillos, and many brachos were given by holy tzaddikim, and no doubt they were heard by He Who hears all.

Yet, something tells me it was the pristine and pure tefillos of an 11-year-old Bais Yaakov girl who lives in the shadow of Hashem’s home that tipped the scales and brought about the yeshuah.

I admit I am biased, as the little girl is my granddaughter Shira.

Simchahs by all.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 841)