Story: The power of a Bracha

by Peri Berger

Do we really know who holds the key to our blessings at any given time? Sometimes there’s one person who blesses us, intentionally or inadvertently, and we suddenly find ourselves basking in the glory of a blessing fulfilled...

---

She spoke with such certainty that I was left wondering if she knew something I didn’t...

This past Sivan, I had the zechus of marrying off my only son to a wonderful young lady. He was what you call a late bloomer, so it took some time for him to find the right shidduch, and when he did finally bloom, the results were magnificent. That was blessing number one, straight from the Ribono shel Olam Himself.

Once the news hit, among the many blessings we received, one stood out. “May you make two chasunas in one year!” my neighbor decreed. I quickly replied “amen,” as I try to do for even the most off the cuff blessings, and she spoke with such certainty that I was left wondering if she knew something I didn’t.

My next child, a daughter, was nearing twenty which, in itself, was no cause for alarm. The problem was that she had been “scheduled” to enter shidduchim at the exact same time as her older brother. As the months went on, she waited patiently, refusing to even consider any suggestion until her brother was engaged and married. I wondered if her chasan would come along relatively soon -- she’d already waited a full two years -- but it could have gone either way.

And then the strangest thing happened. I dabble a bit in shadchanus, not very much but enough to have a name for it, and I received a call from an acquaintance looking for a shidduch for her son. As she went on to describe him, and the type of girl they were looking for, I knew we’d found my daughter’s zivug, or rather, he found us. I quickly phoned another shadchan, and two weeks later, the couple were engaged.

That’s how it came to be that we’ll indeed be making two chasunas in one year. My son was married in Sivan, and my daughter’s wedding date is, b’ezras Hashem, Adar Aleph. My neighbor, a close friend of my mechuteniste, smiles at me knowingly, well aware of the power of a bracha, no matter where it comes from.