IT was settings like this that made Dini glow with pride at what a great couple they were. She watched Shuki mingle suavely with CEOs, board members, and fellow mega-donors over canapés and hors d’oeuvres, while she made charming small talk with their wives.

The air-conditioning was cold, and Dini shivered slightly as she spoke to the wife of the CEO of tonight’s benefit organization. Would it look tacky to put on her wrap?

“Yes, my in-laws are very proud to be one of this evening’s sponsors, they believe so strongly in what Step One does,” she gushed, as she desperately tried to remember what, exactly, Step One did. “They felt so bad that they couldn’t make it to Israel themselves right now, but at least we’re here as their representatives!”

As she complimented the CEO’s wife on her stunning dress, she entertained herself imagining herself and Ayala in this position one day, hosting major donors at a mega fundraising event in Binyanei Ha’umah.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much your partnership means. Thousands of Chesed Tzirel families literally owe their lives to you. I must tell you what one of them said just the other day….”

Dini smiled to herself. Yes, she’d be at home in such a setting, but Ayala? Thinking about Ayala holding court in this crowd of elegance made her want to laugh.

Good thing she has me, she thought, and she swung her sheitel over her shoulder as she continued nodding and murmuring at Mrs. CEO’s story about some recent vacation in Switzerland.

It was only later, during the concert’s intermission, that she and Shuki had some time to themselves. “So what were you so busy with when I came home tonight?” Shuki asked, as they wandered through the hall.

“I was preparing for the big meeting with the NPO consultant. It’s tomorrow, you know.” The thought made her stomach clench once more.

“What’s there to prepare?”

“A ton! Our vision for what we want to eventually become, ideas for how to grow our organization, and what fundraising steps we can take.”

Shuki threw her a sideways glance. “I don’t get it. Isn’t it her job to give you advice about all this stuff?”

Dini’s eyebrows crinkled. “Well, yeah, but we need to come in with some ideas, too. I mean, it’s not her organization, it’s ours.”

“So what ideas have you come up with?”

Dini thought about the papers covering the dining room table back home. She’d scribbled half-baked ideas as they’d occurred to her, but nothing had struck her as impressive enough to wow the professional consultant.

“I dunno… I was thinking about maybe running some kind of cook-off competition among the young American wives here as a way to raise money, but….”

She glanced anxiously at Shuki to gauge his reaction. His face was impassive. Taking that as a bad sign, she quickly added, “I know it’s probably a stupid idea.”

“I didn’t say that. But aren’t you putting the cart before the horse? Why are you focusing on fundraising?”

Dini’s eyes widened. “Every organization needs to fundraise! I mean, hello!” She swept her arm around the large concert crowd milling in the hall.

Shuki stopped walking and leaned against the wall, looking at her. “I meant, why are you talking about ideas for how you’re going to raise money before you even know what you need the money for?”

She stared at him. What they needed the money for? Wasn’t that obvious? “Money for things like the fund that I started for Leora Schwartz.”

He flicked his hand. “Your mother’s already giving you the money for that.”

“Yeah, but what if we want to help several people at once? And also….” Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of other services that would require money. The small smile on her husband’s face made her squirm.

“I suggest you wait and discuss it with the consultant and Mrs. Wexler. You’re stressing yourself out over extra work for nothing.”

Was it the fact that, deep down, she knew he was right that made her so infuriated? “I know putting in the least amount of effort necessary is the way you like to work, but I—”

“That’s the way most people like to work.” Shuki folded his arms behind his head lazily, but there was an unmistakable flash in his eyes, which made Dini swallow her retort. She stared into the distance for a moment; why was she feeling so nervous about this meeting? Why did she feel such an urgent need to be the most prepared person in the room?

In a smaller voice, she said, “I keep picturing the scene tomorrow. We’ll both be sitting there, me and Ayala, and Temima will at first turn to me as the leader, since I’m the one who’s already met with her. But then… Ayala will speak so intelligently about Chesed Tzirel, all about medical procedures and Bituach Leumi assistance… all that stuff she’s an expert in and what will I talk about? ‘Yeah, I coordinate dinners for the families for two whole weeks!’ It’ll be really clear, really fast, that I’m just the dumb assistant.”

Dini kept her gaze trained in the distance, embarrassed to meet Shuki’s eye, willing him not to respond, “Well, you are the assistant.”

The crowd was beginning to head back into the concert hall. Shuki cleared his throat. “Looks like we’re about to miss Ribo’s grand entrance,” he said, lifting himself off the wall.

Dini nodded, and fell into step next to him. Shuki was whistling again. After a moment, he said, casually, “You mentioned those young Ramat Eshkol wives. What if you’d get them on board for something more than just a cook-off? Aren’t a lot of them sitting at home bored stiff?”

She looked at him with interest. “What are you trying to say?”

“Just a thought, but what if you start a volunteer club? To stay with sick kids in the hospital, or help out in the homes, or whatever it is you guys do. Instead of begging random people each time you want to organize meals, make it into something fun and exclusive, so that being part of the Chesed Tzirel volunteer corps becomes the trendy thing to do. And this way, when you do run a fundraiser, you already have a group of committed — what are they called? — ambassadors, who’ll be happy to reach out to their families and friends back home.”

Dini’s eyes widened and a smile slowly spread across her face. “Genius!” she said, as they walked back into the auditorium. Settling into their VIP seats, she murmured, “Maybe we should be consulting you instead of Temima, you have such a talent for this!”

Shuki laughed dismissively, but the hall was too dark for her to catch the expression on his face.

“Tell me about Chesed Tzirel. What is it that you do?”

Ayala tore her eyes away from the “in recognition of service” plaques from various well-known organizations lining the walls of Temima’s office.

“Yes, I, uh, wrote up a list.” She fumbled through the folder she’d brought, pulled out a document, handed copies to Temima and Dini, and began to read aloud.

“Chesed Tzirel’s services. One. When olim reach out to us about a medical crisis, we do an initial intake explaining to them how the Israeli medical system works and what their next steps should be.”

“Nice,” Temima murmured.

“Two. We accompany them to appointments with doctors or other related professionals to translate, explain the medical information that the doctor is conveying, and guide them to ask the follow-up questions they might not realize they need to ask.”

Temima looked up. “Ooh, that’s davka very helpful. And unique. You should definitely focus on this in your marketing.”

Ayala pursed her lips. Marketing, marketing. “Three,” she continued. “If they feel they need further medical advice or assistance getting medical appointments quickly, we connect them to the appropriate organizations and resources to help with this. Four. For those patients who wish, we serve as the liaison between them and the medical staff throughout their hospital stay.”

Next to her, Dini shifted restlessly, as if impatient to get to something that involved her. “Five,” Ayala said, looking at Dini. “We provide support services to help their family get through the difficult period, such as meals, cleaning help, and childcare.”

Temima smiled at Ayala. “Whew. Impressive. How long did you say your organization’s been running?”

“About six years.”

Temima leaned forward. “So this is a comprehensive list of the services you currently offer?”

Ayala said, “Yes” at the same time that Dini said, “No.”

Ayala looked at her friend in surprise. “What am I missing?”

“Our grant.” Dini turned to Temima. “We have a grant to help families who are out of work because of a medical crisis.”

Ayala had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “That’s a — uh — new service,” she explained to the consultant. “We haven’t gotten it up and running yet.”

Dini’s cheeks reddened, as Temima added “grant for families” to her copy of the document.

Then she rested her elbows on the desk. “Ladies, now comes the fun part. Why did you come today? What are your dreams for Chesed Tzirel?”

Ayala glanced at Dini. Why did they come today? Good question. She cleared her throat. “The demand for our services has really been growing—” she began, but was interrupted by Dini.

“We came because until now, the two of us have been running this organization alone, and it’s simply become two big for us to run single-handedly.”

Ayala looked at Dini in surprise and pressed her lips together. The two of us? As if she and Dini were equally sharing the burden?

Temima’s eyes brightened. “Wonderful!” She actually clapped her hands; Ayala had to restrain herself from laughing.

“The first thing the two of you should do is congratulate yourselves. You’ve created an organization and brought it to a key milestone of growth and success.” She waved a manicured hand in the air. “It’s important to realize that you’re at a critical juncture. For many nonprofits, this is the key make it or break it point — whether you’re able to successfully grow beyond a simple volunteer organization being run out of your home on your free time into a professional operation.” She peered closely at Ayala and Dini. “It will take work and also courage, but, b’ezrat Hashem, the results will be worth it. Are you ready?”

Next to her, Dini was nodding eagerly, but Ayala felt herself hesitating. Was she ready? There was a part of her that already mourned the simple volunteer organization run out of her home. Did she really want to give up control of her baby? Did she want to give it into the hands of some hired professional, who might twist and shape it into something large and sleek and unrecognizable?

But the two women were looking at her expectantly. Feeling foolish — Temima’s question had obviously been rhetorical; after all, why else would they be sitting here? — Ayala nodded.

Temima rubbed her hands together. “Then let’s begin!”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 870)