They were a family who fed twelve people on one chicken for all of Shabbos.

It wasn’t always like that but being new immigrants in Israel with a business that went under Mrs. Goldblatt would put the chicken in the soup make a delicious thick broth and then take it out and broil that same chicken in the oven shmearing it with oil and paprika so it made a sauce to cover the rice.

Rice without sauce was weekday dinner fare.

Bread techina and a pickle was lunch.

Except … except when Mrs. Goldblatt had a baby or had had too much that day.

Then she’d send her hungry bunch to the corner kiosk Kiosk Dovi where pareve hotdogs in a bun with assorted salads would fill their bellies.

Many times Mrs. Goldblatt didn’t have the cash on hand to pay but that didn’t bother Dovi. Dovi had a big heart and the bills could and would stay unpaid for months at a time until a chunk of money would somehow miraculously fall into the Goldblatts house — and Mrs. Goldblatt could finally cover the bill.

Come Purim Kiosk Dovi made all the baskets for her children’s teachers a custom in Israel gladly and kindly waiting until the time that miraculous chunk would fall again into the Goldblatt’s home

Somehow baruch Hashem that chunk always did come throughout the ten years the Goldblatts lived next to that kiosk and Kiosk Dovi became like an uncle to the family.

One day the Goldblatts moved. The children had basically all grown up and moved away as well. Some became scholars while others became doctors.

One of the Goldblatt boys Eli now a doctor in training had been on an all-night shift at the hospital. Eli goes to sleep at his brother’s apartment in the center of Jerusalem that night as he is too tired to drive back to the part of the country where he lives.

Already in bed he realizes that he’s hungry. He has been so busy in the hospital he hadn’t really eaten anything substantial in over twenty-four hours. He mentions this to his brother Sruli who offers to make him scrambled eggs and toast.

Eli says “Fine. Thanks.”

Then Sruli comes back into Eli’s room to ask one more question. They have that ease with each other that comes with sharing one small room with nine siblings.

Eli is laying in bed thinking about food options —deli shwarma pizza Chinese — but none hit the spot.

“Sruli were’re going to Kiosk Dovi” Eli sat up saying suddenly.

“Kiosk Dovi? We’re on the opposite side of town.”

“We’ll take a taxi” Eli says putting on his shoes.

“A 50 shekel taxi to buy a 4 shekel hot dog in a roll?” Sruli questions but not judgmentally because he’s had his Kiosk Dovi cravings himself.

They jump into a taxi which is as easy to find as something to eat in the center of the city.

The two brothers tell the taxi driver about Kiosk Dovi and how there’s no greater place for the price.

“Are you guys crazy? You’re taking a 50 shekel ride for a pareve hotdog in a roll?” the taxi driver asks. “Eat half.”

The brothers ask “Why?”

“To control your desires.”

“On a hotdog and a bun.”

The taxi driver’s not religious but he has this great desire to teach about “not to have taavah for things in this world.”

They get to their old neighborhood and pull up to the familiar corner where Kiosk Dovi is.

The brothers get out of the taxi.

Eli sends Sruli in.

Sruli goes in first to start to order the regular. Eli walks in a few seconds after and notices Kiosk Dovi’s not making the sandwiches with the same alacrity as usual. He’s moving slow and his eyes are twitching a little.

“Sruli” he says to his brother “looks like something’s wrong with Dovi.”

“Nu what are you saying?” Sruli because he’s the older brother sluffs it off as nothing. “Dovi’s just tired.”

“No no something’s wrong” Eli says.

Two seconds later Kiosk Dovi as they love to call him starts to shake and then collapses boom onto the floor.

Eli runs behind the counter and immediately straightens Dovi out and lifts his legs up. A man is standing in the store screaming “Call an ambulance!” but because of the shock he can’t move.

Sruli calls Hatzalah. Kiosk Dovi wakes up.

“Where am I” he asks disorientated.

Then he starts to shake again his eyes roll and he faints again. This time Sruli catches him before he falls to the floor and possibly hits his head.

Meanwhile Hatzalah comes and then the ambulance. Kiosk Dovi wakes up again but he refuses to get into an ambulance. He asks for the brohters to call his son. He goes home and goes to his own doctor.

Baruch Hashem the doctor says he’s fine but that he has to watch his sugar — low blood sugar.

Eli and Sruli call their mother Mrs. Goldblatt to tell her the story.

Mrs. Goldblatt calls all her friends to tell them the story.

“Hashem mamash made Eli have the desire when he was already in bed under the blankets to go to Kiosk Dovi.”

“He spent 50 shekels to buy a 4-shekel pareve hotdog in a bun when he is staying near the center of town where you can get anything you want.”

As Mrs. Goldblatt tells me the story all I can think is how Eli must have been driven by one of the angels Hashem created from all the good that had been done for Eli and his family by Kiosk Dovi.

There are alot of puzzling parts to life that we can't  put together even at our greatest heights. This story though is one of those that a little glimpse into it’s whole is  clearly seen in pieces.