white and black feathers

Egg casseroles and scones – that’s usually the extent of my contribution to my synagogue’s caring committee. But that Wednesday, I’d offered to drive Carol, a temple member, to see her husband in the hospital in a city about an hour away. I imagined dropping her off and enjoying a coffee and pastry at my favorite bakery while I waited. That morning, however, I got a call from the rabbi, who was too ill to go to the hospital. “Can you go in with Carol and find out what’s really wrong with Arthur?” he asked. “She’s overwhelmed.”

One good deed calls for another, and another.