I know a grand total of zero chassidish boys, so I told her I didn’t think I’d be a great resource

WE

often hear stories of wild Hashgachah pratis, with twists and turns, almost-happened, and near misses. And then the pieces fall into place and behold — a shidduch!

These stories of miracles disguised as coincidences get me emotional every time.

But what if you’re supposed to be the miraculous happenstance who kicks off a shidduch everyone can’t believe they didn’t think of themselves? (Okay, if we knew that for certain, we’d all be redting shidduchim because we’d love a starring role in a Hashgachah pratis story that will be retold for generations.)

I’ve got a story.

A few months ago, I was on the phone with a lovely shadchan, thanking her for her efforts redting someone to a family member. Before I got off the phone, she said, “By the way, I have a daughter who just started shidduchim. Could you please keep her in mind?”

I know a grand total of zero chassidish boys, so I told her I didn’t think I’d be a great resource, but I’d have her daughter in mind should I come across anyone eligible.

“Would you mind if I sent her résumé?” she asked.

“Not a problem,” I told her. “By all means send it over.”