Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Until we all sat down for dinner and the bowl on the top of all the other dishes drying on the drain board fell and flipped the switch starting the garbage disposal. That's right, while we sat and tried to eat our herring and hummus, there was a horrible grinding sound coming from the kitchen sink.
California, once again, is in the middle of a terrible drought, so running water is pretty much out of the question. So is burning out the motor of the garbage disposal. So is any of us turning it off by hand.
So I got up from the table and went outside to find someone, anyone who is not a Jew to come into our home and turn off the garbage disposal. I was rehearsing in my mind just what I'd say when a big, beat up SUV park across the street from my house. I waited until the occupants got out, and then I approached them. Right in the middle of the street. I wasn't playing any games. This was serious.
Turns out, the young woman is my neighbor who I've never met in the two years I've lived on my street. Not only that, but she plays the piano wonderfully and has serenaded us every Shabbat day. When I explained to her what I needed ("the garbage disposal is on and as an observant Jew, I can't turn it off), this sweet, wonderful young lady jumped at the chance to turn it off.
This amazing, delightful young woman saved our Shabbat. Strange, and a bit sad, I haven't seen her since that Friday night. But it's a wonderful feeling living next door to a Shabbat Angel.