Close friends of ours were celebrating their daughter’s bat mitzvah in Miami this week, so my wife and I hopped on a plane to join their special occasion.
You might be thinking this was a vacation for us, but it was not. It’s the busiest time of year. Erev Pesach. That means it’s crunch time at home, at school, at work, for us, our kids, and our community. Heading out of town wouldn’t be easy, but we were determined to be there.
And I’m so glad we went! The simcha was beautiful, the bat mitzvah girl was inspiring, and being able to celebrate with our friends at their important moment felt meaningful and exciting.
We were supposed to fly in and out, staying just the one night, but when I woke up the next morning and looked at my phone, I saw our flight had been cancelled.
I soon saw the news about the catastrophic crash at La Guardia, where an Air Canada plane collided with a firetruck, killing both pilots and injuring dozens.
La Guardia was indefinitely shut down. Of course our flight was cancelled! Not to mention the severe TSA disruptions that all the airports are experiencing right now.
Even our travel agent couldn’t help.
My initial reaction was panic. We have eight kids at home. Pesach is just around the corner. Our kids need us, our school needs us, our community needs us. We have a million things to do; we can’t just wait around.
But then I reminded myself of something I’ve said so many times to others: Everything comes from Hashem. This is His plan. For whatever reason, He wants us here now. Not at home. Not at our Chabad center. Here, in Miami.
It’s easy to remember that He’s in charge when things work out. We love to say, “Look, it’s Divine Providence!” when things line up nicely for us. But the real work is remembering that it’s just as much His intervention and Divine Providence when things don’t go to plan.
I asked the travel agent to check again for any flights, even if we would have to split up and/or use other airports.
A few minutes later, he called back. “I found one ticket. 11:22 AM. It leaves from Fort Lauderdale and lands in Newark.”
“Book it,” I said, without hesitation.
Then I grabbed my things and ran. It was already 9:15 AM.
When I got to the airport, it was chaos in every direction. Endless security lines. Frustrated passengers. Everyone was tense and on edge—fliers and staff alike.
Somehow, holding my breath, I made it through, and arrived at the gate—out of breath, sweating, heart pounding—with five minutes to spare.
As I was trying to catch my breath, someone walked over to me and introduced himself as a fellow Jew. He was heading to Texas from the gate right next to mine.
We started chatting, and then I (of course!) asked him: “Do you want to put on tefillin?”
He smiled and agreed willingly.
So there we were, two Jews in the middle of Fort Lauderdale–Hollywood International Airport, surrounded by noise and so much stress. Constant announcements over the loudspeaker, people running, yelling, luggage clattering … and suddenly, it all stopped.
At that moment, it was like a bubble wrapped itself around us and everything became still and peaceful. We were just two Jews, wrapping tefillin, saying Shema, connected by our very souls to each other and to something infinitely bigger.
That’s when it dawned on me that maybe this is why my flight was cancelled.
All the uncertainty, the scrambling, the worry … it was all for this moment. So two Jews could meet, and a Jew headed to Texas could put on tefillin at Fort Lauderdale Airport at exactly 10:47am.
This time, I got to see the Divine Providence. But even if I hadn’t had that airport encounter, it would have been just as much G-d’s intention for me to miss my original flight and end up going through Fort Lauderdale and Newark.
Sometimes, the flight you miss is clearly the moment you were meant to catch. And other times, you have no idea why you were meant to miss that moment. But it was a plan designed directly for you, regardless.