One Small Act of Kindness: The Calendar That Changed Everything

Ruchama was one of a kind, a true neighborhood institution. Everyone knew her. She was the older woman with the booming voice, the one who didn’t let anyone get away with anything. Words like “progress” and “technology” didn’t impress her. She lived alone. People said she had family who came to visit from time to time, but Ruchama was strong enough to manage even without those visits. That was simply who she was.

Anyone who knew her knew that Ruchama had lived a hard life. Perhaps it was precisely that toughness that gave her character such depth. Many people kept their distance, intimidated by her sharpness, her bluntness, and her complete lack of patience for anything that seemed crooked or simply spoiled.

“In my generation,” she would say, “we didn’t know what it meant to pamper ourselves. We did what had to be done, so why make such a fuss about everything?”

Her circle of friends was not wide, to put it mildly. She carefully chose the few people she let close, and everyone else never really discovered the woman beneath the tough exterior.

Avner was one of those few.

It Started With a Calendar

Ruchama knew Avner well. Or rather, she was the one who approached him first, and from that moment on, he began to know her too.

Avner lived in Ruchama’s building in a rented apartment. One early morning, he was heading to work wearing a shirt bearing the logo of the well-known electronics store where he worked. Ruchama did not miss it. As he walked down the final stairs toward the exit, she called out to him.

“Hey, young man.”

He turned around, a little startled to see her so early in the morning.

“I see you work at the Electrical Center,” she called out.

“That’s right,” he answered.

“Every year you give out free calendars. Have they arrived already? I was there last week, and they told me they hadn’t come in yet.”

“Actually, they arrived yesterday,” he replied.

“Do me a favor and bring me one calendar. Maybe even two, so my daughter can have one too.”

“No problem,” he said kindly. What did he have to lose by making a Jewish woman happy?

“Knock on my door. I live on the first floor. If I’m not there, leave them in the mailbox,” she instructed.

Avner nodded and continued toward the motorcycle waiting for him in the parking lot.

By the time he arrived at the store, Avner had completely forgotten about their conversation. It was only a minute before getting back on his motorcycle to head home that he suddenly remembered Ruchama. He hesitated. Why was it so important to bring her the calendars that very day? But something inside nudged him. Poor woman, he thought. Give her something that will make her happy. Don’t be lazy.

Helmet already in hand, he ran back into the store, grabbed two calendars from the pile at the entrance, and left.

When he arrived at the building, he looked for Ruchama’s apartment. He didn’t have to look very hard. An old iron door told its story without words. He knocked and heard a voice calling from inside, “Waaaiiit!”

A moment later, the door opened. There stood Ruchama in all her glory. He handed her the calendars.

“You remembered me?!” she exclaimed, surprised and delighted like a little girl.

Her reaction completely caught him off guard. For a moment, the tough woman standing in front of him looked like a preschooler thrilled that her teacher had remembered her. His heart ached.

“Of course. How could I forget?” he said with a smile.

Ruchama thanked him again and again, showering him with every blessing she knew. Avner went home with a sweet sense of satisfaction and a mixture of emotions.

It was only their first real encounter.

Three Years of Calendars

From that day on, Ruchama decided that Avner was one of the people she liked. Whenever she saw him in the morning, she greeted him loudly and showered him with blessings. From time to time, she asked how he was doing, and he asked after her. To Avner, she became an interesting, almost grandmotherly figure.

His friends sometimes teased him about his unusual friendship with the older woman from his building, but Avner wasn’t bothered. Something in his heart told him that Ruchama needed this simple human attention.

When Elul came around again, Ruchama once more asked Avner to bring her a calendar. She loved calendars and had built up quite a collection, adding to it every Elul. From then on, Avner remembered to bring her one each year, and every time, Ruchama was delighted.

The routine continued for three years. Then, in the fourth year, Ruchama sensed that something was wrong.

Usually, by this point in the year, Avner had already brought her a calendar. This time, he hadn’t. In fact, she realized she hadn’t seen him for quite some time. With Ruchama, there was barely any distance between a thought and an action.

She made her way downstairs to Avner’s apartment, directly below hers. She knocked on the door, rang the bell, and knocked again. Ruchama knew how to knock. But there was no answer.

She tried the door. It was locked.

Something inside told her that this was not right.

A neighbor passing by asked how she was doing, and Ruchama immediately asked whether he had seen the young man who lived there recently.

“Honestly, no,” he replied. “Maybe he isn’t home. Maybe he went to work.”

He gently tried to persuade her to move away from Avner’s door, but Ruchama wasn’t convinced. She went outside and headed toward the parking lot. There was Avner’s motorcycle, chained to a post.

“He has to be home,” she told herself aloud. “He isn’t at work.”

“Avner! Get Up Immediately!”

Ruchama returned to the building. Avner lived on the ground floor, so she decided to make her way around the outside of his apartment. She moved with difficulty, but nothing was going to stop her. She pushed her way through the bushes, going from window to window and knocking with her cane.

“Avner!” she shouted.

No answer.

She kept going until she reached what she assumed was his bedroom. The shutter was closed, its slats locked. Ruchama raised her cane and began pounding.

“Avner! Get up immediately!”

To her, it was as clear as daylight that he was inside. She knocked again and again. Her pounding could have shaken a soul awake.

“Geeeet uuuup!” she roared.

And he got up.

The shutter opened, its loose slats rattling. “Oh, Ruchama,” came a muffled voice.

“Open the window! Open the door! Open it, I told you!”

She marched back to the front door, pressed the handle, and it opened. Avner had unlocked it. The apartment was dark and stifling, so Ruchama left the door open and began opening the windows one by one. He had been living like this for a while, she realized.

Avner had already collapsed back onto his bed and pulled the blanket over himself.

“Get up!” she shouted. When he didn’t answer, she continued, “What’s wrong with you? You’re young! What are you doing, pampering yourself in bed? Get up immediately!”

Her commanding voice finally got Avner to sit up. He looked at her with glazed eyes. Ruchama put her hands on her hips and gave him a fierce look.

“What is this indulgence? Get up right now and get dressed. Now.”

Slowly, he got up. Meanwhile, Ruchama straightened the apartment and aired it out. Then she went upstairs and returned with a pot of food, a plate, and utensils. She set the table and made him sit down and eat. Seeing a young man like him lying helplessly in bed was something she simply could not accept.

“Ruchama, I can’t,” he told her.

“There’s no such thing,” she replied firmly.

“I’m in debt, Ruchama,” he tried to explain.

“Then work even harder,” she told him.

Strangely enough, her orders helped. Avner ate, and little by little, he began telling her what had happened. He explained the trouble he had fallen into and the enormous debts weighing on him. Ruchama had an answer for everything and began laying out a plan of action.

As Avner listened, he realized that Ruchama, whom people might easily underestimate, understood a thing or two about money. When she finally left, she gave him clear instructions for what he needed to do next.

What Avner Didn’t Know

Ruchama did not go upstairs to rest. Instead, she contacted Avner’s landlord, whom she had known since the 1960s, and warned him not to even think about throwing Avner out of the apartment. She would pay at least half of his rent, she told him, and the landlord would absorb the rest.

Her next call was to the owner of a fast-food shop, another person she knew. She arranged for meals to be sent to Avner at her expense. And while she was at it, she had another question: Would he perhaps be willing to give Avner a job?

Avner knew none of this. Only years later would he understand just how much Ruchama had done for him. In the meantime, she quietly kept an eye on him and made sure he followed the advice she had given him.

The days passed, and Avner recovered, not only financially. Eventually, he opened his own business, got married, and became a father. Ruchama became his children’s third grandmother. The years aged her, but one tradition never changed: every year, Avner continued bringing her calendars, now printed by his own business.

And when Ruchama’s time came, Avner was there, taking care of everything necessary to honor the woman who had saved his life. From then on, every calendar he printed for his customers included a line in her memory.

Only he and Hashem know why.