“Dassi,” I said, “you, like everyone, need to live in the present — with an eye to the future. Of course you want to get married, and you should arrange your life in a way that’s conducive to that plan. Which you did. But you have to live in the moment, and the present also has to be meaningful. It can’t just be dead time while you ‘wait.’ ”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want to do. Learn to play the piano, take a trip somewhere exotic. Do something that brings you joy.” A thought occurred to me. “You got your degree in special ed, right?”

“Right.”

“Why?”

“Well… you know about Yochi, right?”

“Um, I don’t have my papers in front of me this second….”

“My brother, Yochi,” Dassi clarified. “He’s eight, the cutest kid, and he has Down syndrome. Having Yochi around showed me how much kids like him have to offer the world. I want to help them become everything they can be. I’m very passionate about this.

“I know not everyone appreciates kids like Yochi, and people used to hide them, and be ashamed of them…. Some people still are. When I imagine someone trying to ‘hide’ Yochi…” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Dassi, that’s wonderful. Your life has plenty of meaning, even if you aren’t married. Try to focus on that instead of feeling sorry for yourself. I love the life and passion I’m hearing from you right now.”

“Mrs. Leiman,” Dassi said hesitantly, “I read your article on Hashgachah in shidduchim, and the other one about how when people say no, it’s really Hashem’s way of filtering out the ‘wrong’ ones. But I’m in such a negative place right now…. People say no to me because of Yochi!”

“I hear you,” I told her, “and I hate to sound cliché, but I want you to start a gratitude journal. Write down something you’re grateful for every day. And it shouldn’t be things like your new gorgeous car, but the hard work that gave you that opportunity. Focus on people and relationships, and not transient things.

“And,” I added, “you need to apply this mindset to the guys you date also. Look for positive things about them. For every date, write down five positives. I’ll allow you one negative also,” I said generously. “Write it on the corner of the page. But your focus has to shift toward the good things in your life.”

I heard from Mrs. Kornreich about three weeks later.

“She’s different,” she announced, without preamble. “I don’t know what you told her, but I can tell that she’s different. And good thing too, because she’s dating someone now — their third date is tomorrow. I’m just calling to tell you how this shidduch came about — maybe you’ll even put us in the magazine.”

“Tell me,” I said, laughing.

“His name is Dovid, and he’s 23 — a little younger than Dassi, and he just started dating. She’s his first girl, actually. So you know how it is with guys, by the time they’re ready to start listening they have a stack of résumés taller than the boy himself, and they all basically sound the same. His mother was completely overwhelmed, she didn’t know where to start.” Mrs. Kornreich paused for effect.

“Finally, Dovid told her that she should pick out the résumés that sound unique or different in some way. She did that, and they narrowed it down to four girls.”

“Aaaaand?”

“One girl had grown up in Europe. One had her grandparents living in their home, which Dovid thought probably reflected well on the family. The third girl was an American Israeli who had gotten stuck in the US because of COVID.

“The fourth girl was Dassi. She made it into the ‘unique’ category because she has a brother with Down syndrome. Dovid said that everyone knows that a special child has a special effect on the entire family; it changes them all. He said, ‘That’s the girl I want to go out with.’ ”

Mrs. Kornreich, you were right. The story will make it into the magazine, with the ending that only Hashem could have written. Mazel tov!

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 720)