By the time the gleaming Lincoln pulled up in front of Yitz’s house, Yitz had made a decision. This was Dovi’s night. He would go to the wedding and think only about Dovi. He would focus outward — be happy for Dovi and grateful for guys like Shimmy who were there to support him. And he would dance his heart out.

That’s how he looked — flushed, breathless, and sweating — when Shimmy’s father arrived during the second dance. “Shkoyach for the ride!” Yitz exclaimed, pumping his hand exuberantly. His tie was loose and his face was shining. He pulled Mr. Edelman into the circle. “Come dance!” He snagged Shimmy too, and grabbed the chassan, laughing the whole time.

You’d never know what he just went through, Mr. Edelman marveled. Shimmy was right. It was worth giving up the car. You’d totally never know!

Mr. Edelman flew to Hong Kong for a business conference the next day. At the local Chabad house, he met Zalman Goldfarb, an old friend from his yeshivah days.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you since your wedding!” Zalman teased him. “You’re probably marrying off your kids already!”

“I have one married daughter,” Mr. Edelman replied, “and a son in shidduchim.”

“Maybe you know someone for my daughter, then?” Zalman asked. “She’s looking for a serious ben Torah, but the main thing is that he should be a real baal middos.”

It was less than 48 hours since Mr. Edelman had left Dovi’s wedding. Yitz’s face, glowing with happiness for his friend, flashed before his eyes. “Find out about Yitz Shapiro,” he said. “He’s a close friend of my son, and I’m very impressed with his middos. I’m not a shadchan, though. If you’re interested in him, find someone to redt it to your daughter.”

Zalman Goldfarb called me. Yes, I knew Yitz Shapiro. Yes, I thought he was a fine young man, with beautiful middos. Yes, I’d be happy to suggest the shidduch.

“I’m not dating right now,” Yitz announced firmly as soon as I called. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“Can I tell you a little about her and then you can decide?” I asked.

He hesitated. “How do you know her?”

I told him the truth. “You were going through a tough time, but you pulled yourself together to attend your friend’s wedding,” I said. “And you didn’t just show up and hide in a corner — you danced as if it was your own wedding. You smiled the entire night. Anyone who didn’t know what had happened to you, would never have been able to tell. And the people who did know — they were amazed. They know what you did, how special it was.

“The day after Dovi’s wedding, Shimmy Edelman’s father went to Hong Kong and met Mr. Goldfarb there. It was Mr. Edelman’s suggestion. He knew that you could have avoided the wedding, but you didn’t, and you were mesamei’ach the chassan in an extraordinary way. That’s where this shidduch is coming from.”

Yitz agreed to meet Adina Goldfarb. The first date was fine, but the second date stretched way longer than a second date should. “I’m so embarrassed,” Yitz said, when he told me what time he had brought Adina home. “I just lost track of time.”

I took it as a good sign.

Yitz and Adina got engaged eight weeks after Dovi’s wedding. When Yitz called Shimmy to share the news, he informed him that his father had been the shadchan.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mr. Edelman said.

“Come on,” Yitz said. “You told Adina’s father about me when you met him in Hong Kong!”

“Really?” Mr. Edelman said. “I don’t remember that… But I certainly remember how impressed I was with you at Dovi’s wedding.”

“Remember the selflessness you displayed toward your best friend?” I reminded Yitz. “You were happy for him despite your own pain. Hashem sees everything and remembers everything. Every bit of hardship you endure, every bit of effort you put in, every sacrifice you make for someone else — it all counts. And in your case, it directly brought about your shidduch.”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 708)