"H ashem will order the blessing to be with you in your granaries…”

(Devarim 28:8)

The Gemara says (Bava Metzia 42a): A blessing will only rest upon something that’s not readily visible.

Why does Hashem only perform miracles on that which is hidden from the eye?

To understand we must recognize the prevalent misconception about the difference between nature and miracles. People assume that nature’s a system of cause and effect that Hashem established within creation. On rare occasions Hashem halts the natural process of the world and performs outright miracles.

But this theory is incorrect. Take a look at “natural” produce. The ground is plowed the seed planted and watered and then nature produces a plant. Cause and effect.

But why should the cause make the effect? Simply because it always does so? (Rav Dessler Michtav MeEliyahu)

We were at one of those points in life where the pressure kept piling the errands were never- ending and the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Both my husband and I were running marathons in our daily lives barely seeing each other for more than a few minutes.

Then one Sunday afternoon we found ourselves in the eye of the storm. An appointment had been canceled the phone was mysteriously silent and the kids were all busy. My husband and I exchanged glances and whispered “Let’s get out of here!”

A phone call to a relative who owns a jeep with four-wheel drive got the keys in our hands. We escaped giggling like two kids playing hooky and drove off — destination unknown. Simply away!

Imagine there were a dead person rotting in the grave. Suddenly his body starts to regenerate and he emerges as a new person. Wouldn’t we say that’s a tremendous miracle of techiyas hameisim?

Yet this is exactly what happens when a seed disintegrates into the ground and then sprouts into a plant. Isn’t this also a tremendous miracle of techiyas hameisim?

The only difference between the two is the frequency of occurrence. So we mistakenly call common events nature and rare events miracles. (ibid.)

We headed toward Ashdod where sand dunes stretch for miles where open areas of sage and brush extend with not a soul in sight. One slope led to another and eventually we coasted toward the water. This stretch of beach was inaccessible to regular vehicles so we sat on the sand in perfect solitude the waves setting a quiet rhythm so different from the hectic pace of our life.

The sun was a glowing orange ball sinking quickly before we roused ourselves out of this private paradise. Back to real life. We moved slowly not wanting to break the trance of peacefulness.

Rav Chanina ben Dosa said: The One Who said to oil to ignite will tell vinegar to ignite. (Taanis 25a)

There’s no difference between the natural combustible characteristic of oil versus the miracle of vinegar igniting. They’re both miracles! The only reason anything happens is because Hashem wants it to happen.

Nature is only an optical illusion to allow a person bechirah to recognize the constant miracles. (ibid.)

Settling in the jeep my husband turned the key. Nothing happened. He pumped the gas and tried again. Not a cough not a sputter.

I was too serene to worry. “Let’s try again.”

Gornisht. Dead as a doorknob.

My husband climbed out of the jeep and popped the hood but the innards of this four-wheel contraption were pretty complex.

“We’ll call for help.”

No reception. We really had left society behind.

The shadows were lengthening. What had been an isolated oasis was rapidly becoming a deserted danger. My husband turned on the flashlight on his phone and went to fiddle with the wires again not expecting too much. My lips automatically began whispering Tehillim knots in my stomach replacing the relaxed lassitude of the past few hours.

Another try. Still no success.

My Tehillim picked up its pace and my husband began pacing. Closing my eyes against the deepening gloom I found myself reaching inward.

Please Hashem. You made the engine work before. You can make it work again. It’s not the wires connecting it’s the connection to You….

One more try. And the engine coughed and sputtered to life.

We looked wordlessly at each other. Revved the gas and made a quick getaway back to the stresses of society with its crowds of people and cell phone reception.

I sent up a heartfelt thank-you.

And settled back for a perfectly natural miraculous ride back home. (Originally featured in Family First Issue 558)