Shabbat was over. I had just spent an incredible 25 hours surrounded by my siblings, parents, and way too much food, celebrating my nephew’s wedding.
Eight out of nine siblings had all gathered in Israel for the weekend, during which we laughed, sang, bonded, told stories, and relished in the nostalgia of the old days, when we all lived together.
Then Shabbat ended and it was time to check out of the hotel.
The receptionist smiled and said, “That’ll be 60 shekels for parking.”
Simple enough. I reached for my credit card, except … it wasn’t there.
No problem, I thought. Probably in my jacket.
Nope.
Pants pocket? Nada.
Suitcase? Empty.
So I did what most people do when they can’t find something - I started panicking!
I opened and reopened every suitcase and checked every pocket and zipper compartment. Over and over again. I checked every pocket of every pair of pants I’d worn that week! But without success. My three credit cards, my Global Entry card, and my driver’s license were all gone.
“Where’s my credit card? My Global Entry? My license!” I kept repeating like a broken record.
My siblings joined in, forming a full-blown search party.
Meanwhile, my brother, with whom I’d shared a room, was having his own meltdown.
“I can’t find my car keys!” he wailed.
He’d kept them locked in the safe over Shabbat, and now they were gone.
So we both went back to our room for one final desperate sweep. I got down on my knees, checking under the beds and behind the furniture, and that’s when I discovered that I had his keys in my pocket!
Apparently, I had put them there thinking they were mine, while my own car keys were safely with the valet.
So now we had his keys, but I still had no credit card and no license.
At this point, I was sweating. The receptionist was giving me that “Oh no, not another tourist” look, and my embarrassment and desperation were growing.
Then my oldest brother, in his calm, wise, and slightly annoyed way, suggested: “Why don’t you call the hotel where you stayed Thursday night in Petach Tikva? Maybe you left it there.”
“No chance,” I said. “I never lose things.” (Time to eat my words.)
But I called anyway. And guess what? “Yes, we found your credit card and license!” the receptionist said cheerfully.
Relief flooded through me, and best of all, I was headed right back to Petach Tikva, to that very hotel again, that night.
So what did I learn from the experience?
- Don’t panic; remember that Hashem is in charge. He always has a plan and things will work out exactly as intended. I spent an hour searching, worrying, and sweating … and it changed absolutely nothing. We are told Hashem always provides the cure before the illness, and indeed, He arranged for my cards to be safe before I even noticed and started worrying.
- Give charity. There is a rich and long-held tradition to give charity when something important is missing. In the merit of helping others, we hope to locate the lost item.
- Be mindful where you’re searching. I kept tearing apart my suitcase and pockets — but my credit cards weren’t there. In life, we often search for meaning, happiness, or purpose in all the wrong places. We pursue fame, wealth and pleasure, but true happiness remains elusive. When we focus on living a G-dly life, learning Torah, doing mitzvot, and helping others, that’s when we find what we’re really looking for.
- Your true identity is never lost. My license, my Global Entry, and my credit cards — my “identity” — were misplaced, but never gone. Sometimes we lose sight of who we are, but our real self, our soul, is always there at our core, waiting for us to tap back in and rediscover it.