I am a home day-care provider. I love the kids I spend my day with. It’s some of their mothers that I don’t like.

Lots of people annoyed me when I was younger and less experienced — the mother who brought her baby with a dirty diaper every single day, and the ones who dropped off kids with contagious conditions. But now I have experience and know how to handle most of the stuff that comes up.

Sometimes there are kids who are clearly neglected at home, and I can’t do much about that, but I can love them when they’re in my house. It isn’t those mothers who push my buttons. I can usually tell that they grew up in dysfunctional homes themselves and don’t know how to be a good mother, or sometimes they just seem to be under an insane amount of stress.

But Mrs. Plonit was a whole new challenge. She’d walk in every day with her nose in the air, as if nobody in the room was worth looking at, and her mouth would pucker if there was any trace of an unpleasant smell. I keep things clean, but there were six babies and toddlers in the room, and sometimes one of them needed a diaper change! Her son Tuvya was sweet and sociable, though, so I was willing to put up with her.

Tuvya was just about in the middle of the group age-wise, and was everybody’s friend. The trouble began when everybody left. Mrs. Plonit was always late for pick up. The minute his last friend left, Tuvya began to howl. I was always so tired by the end of the morning, but didn’t have the heart to let him be. I would hold him, dance with him, offer him a treat or a special toy, but nothing helped.

As soon as I realized that this was a pattern, I told his mother very firmly that she should come on time for pickup, if not for my sake, then for his. She wouldn’t do it, even after I mentioned it every day for a week. It’s not nice to make value judgments on your neighbor, but really! She was a stay-at home mother and this was her youngest. She was just enjoying her last quarter-hour of quiet at my expense — and Tuvya’s!

The resentment festered inside me. For days, I thought about what a witch she was, and how I was a fool for letting her use me like that. The more I thought, the more snappy and miserable I became, until I thought I would scream. I figured she may as well hear it, so I picked up the phone. But my husband told me to call our rav first. Rav Rosen listened until I’d run out of rant, then said, “She’s Hashem’s messenger.”

I paled, blinked, and hung up. With three words, he’d reversed the spin of the universe. I stared at nothing while my mind whirled. She couldn’t be the target for my anger — Hashem sent her! … But why? To make me wretched? That didn’t sound like Him.

Then the phone rang. “Did we get disconnected?” Rav Rosen asked. “I wanted to tell you to forgive her.”

“Forgive her! But she never asked for forgiveness!”

“Do it for your own sake.”

For my own sake? It took a while to digest the idea, but then it made sense. I throw out rotten apples so the rot doesn’t spread. My resentment was taking over my life — why not throw it out?

Forgiving is a difficult process. At first it took a lot of acting. I pretended I wasn’t mad at her, that I even liked her. I started feeling better about her. Forgiving warms the heart and cools the sting. In time, I got to the point that I could chat with her for a few minutes. It turned out that she had a great sense of humor, which was very welcome after a whole morning spent with little kids. I began to look forward to having a laugh with her.

Have I forgiven her, or have I just learned to live with her? I’m still not sure. Forgiveness isn’t something that happens overnight. It’s an evolution of the heart, and mind.

What I am sure of is that she was sent my way so that I could learn to forgive. And that if I forgive, Hashem will forgive me. He promised. Forgiving can’t change the past, but it sure can change my future.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 358)