Raizele suddenly found herself wishing fervently for the Beis Hamikdash. She would run straight there and bring a Korban Todah, if only she could
“T
hat was really beautiful,” said Sandy, his voice rising to a high pitch as he yawned. He’d just given the young couple a ride home from the lavish sheva brachos Marta’s sister Hindy had made for them in Ramat Beit Shemesh. Sarah Bayla headed inside, while Yonatan stayed outside for a moment to say good night to his father.
“It really was nice,” he agreed. “Tante Hindy, she should live and be well, put out enough food for five meals!”
“And tomorrow is the last one,” said Sandy, yawning again. He was hosting the final sheva brachos in a stylish hall on the outskirts of Jerusalem. Everybody was invited — all his friends and relatives, all his local business contacts, and the kallah’s whole extended family, as well.
“You know,” Sandy said after a pause for thought, “I’d really like for Shalom to be there tomorrow.”
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