As my mother bentshed licht I wondered about Maariv, which I don’t usually daven, but on Rosh Hashanah, shouldn’t I? Should I go to shul? That was solved when my father said he doubted there’d be an ezras nashim at night. But at home? Yes, of course I should daven Maariv at home. I resolved to do so, looking longingly at the magazine I’d left on the couch.

“Sara Malka, I could really use your help setting the table, especially with the napkins. Could you help me fold them into swans?”

“Sorry, Rivky, I have to daven now,” I said to my sister, and left her staring after me.

“There you are, Sara Malka,” my mother said when I returned from davening in the den. “I need you to quickly get the table ready.”

“I was davening,” I explained proudly, “but wasn’t Rivky doing the table?”

“Well, she started to, but I needed her to take care of Gavi instead. Would you believe he plastered himself from head to toe with Band-Aids?”

Whoops.

The seudah was beautiful but it took ages, especially with the simanim.

“Mommy, why don’t you go up to bed? Sara Malka and Rivky will help me clear up,” Tatty said. “Right, girls?” Like we had a choice. Oh, no! I’d wanted to get to sleep early so I could get up on time for shul in the morning. Well, here goes! While Tatty was busy at the sink and Rivky was clearing and putting away food in the kitchen, I tackled the dining room table. I quickly gathered the remaining plates and utensils, ignoring the ubiquitous honey as I stacked everything and brought it to my father at the sink. Then, I quickly shoved each serving bowl and plate, food included, into a bag and stuffed everything into the refrigerator. Who had time to waste scraping salads into containers, only to put them back into serving bowls tomorrow? Glancing once more into the dining room, I concluded that it would only be fair for Rivky to finish the table and throw out the sticky plastic covering. I needed my sleep.

“Good Yom Tov, everyone,” I called as bounded down the steps fully dressed and prepared to leave for shul the next morning.

“You look lovely.” Mommy flashed me her soft smile. “Rivky already dressed Yitzi, but I could use your help with Dini. She only wants you!’”

“You are adorable!” I declared, ruffling Dini’s curls, “but I need to get to shul.” I left the house without a backward glance.

“Good Yom Tov, Mrs. Lebowitz!” I raised my voice hoping the older woman could hear me.

“Oh, Sara Malka, Hashem sent you to me! A good girl like you, you are going to shul — where else? And my legs, they’re not so young like they used to be and today they’re not walking so well, so how can I go to shul? But Hashem sent you and now you can walk with me!” Mrs. Lebowitz finished triumphantly. How could I disappoint her? But I had to be strong!

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lebowitz, but I’m going to be late if I don’t really run. But I’m sure someone else will walk with you. Good Yom Tov,” I called back as I hurried away.

Much of the ladies’ section was empty when I arrived; I guess most people are not aware of the strength of our tefillos! Opening my machzor, I was soon engrossed in my davening. Each time the door opened, though, my concentration was broken by the noise in the hallway. Mrs. Lebowitz finally showed up half an hour later holding Blimi Teichman’s arm. I guess it’s good I’d hurried ahead.

“What are they up to?” a girl whispered, leaning over the bench in front of me. I showed her my page and pointedly turned away. A few minutes later I was once again nudged, and once again held up my machzor, this time with a sharp look of disapproval. If everyone would come on time and pay attention I wouldn’t have to keep getting disturbed! Frustrated, I glared at the many offenders.

My sister Rivky showed up at Krias HaTorah and glowered at me. “Mommy and I just spent the last hour trying to negotiate with an overtired, tantruming toddler because you were in too much of a rush to go daven to spend two minutes dressing her!” she huffed between aliyos. “Do you really think it was right for Mommy and me to miss all of Shacharis so you could be in shul on time?”

Hmm. I no longer felt quite so proud of myself but… could this still be the yetzer hara at work? It was after davening that I got the shock of my life.

“Good Yom Tov, Tzippy! I didn’t see you before!”

“Good Yom Tov, Sara Malka! Of course you didn’t see me, I wasn’t here. I just came now to hear the ladies’ shofar blowing,” Tzippy explained.

“But…what about davening in shul?

“You know my sister had a baby last week? She’s staying with us, and my mother and I both had our hands full with her twins. When one finally went down for a nap, and one of us could go, it was only right that it should be my mother. I would have loved to daven in shul today, but I sure couldn’t leave them alone like that! Priorities, right?” she added with a grin. “Maybe tomorrow I can get here for something.”

Priorities, huh? I had a lot to think about. But first I needed to find Mrs. Lebowitz. Maybe she’d let me walk her home. And I’d offer to walk her to shul tomorrow, only I can’t say when I’ll be available because I need to first see what my mother needs.

And I sure hope I get to the refrigerator before my mother notices the salads.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 726)