It was getting dark.
I'd spent Monday on the road visiting Jews in Laughlin, Bullhead City, Fort Mohave and Mohave Valley.
Google Maps sent me off to the middle of an intersection and told me I'd arrived. After some time and research, I realized there wasn't supposed to be a "South" in the street name. 15 minutes later, I was outside another home. Fenced off with Beware of the Dogs signs and no bell, I couldn't get to the door. Coming from so far, I didn't just want to leave the matzah on the street ...
I didn't have a phone number, but I decided to try the White Pages number. No answer. I sent a text and waited. After a few minutes, a woman answered and came to open up.
Sheri was thrilled I'd found her—and the timing was no coincidence, she explained.
This week, they were feeling spiritual. Her husband went to his place of worship, but how could she find a Jewish connection and community in Fort Mohave? "Maybe there's something in Havasu," she thought briefly.
"Less than 24 hours later, you show up at my door with matzah!"
There truly are no coincidences. G-d heard the wish of a Jewish woman looking to connect with Him in Fort Mohave and sent matzah and a Seder invite.
Matzah, the Kabbalah says, is the food of faith. Wherever we are in our lives, eating matzah on Passover brings an infusion of faith and re-energizes our soul. Even in Fort Mohave.
Pictured, I almost had to channel my inner Moses and part this river in the Hualapais to visit a Jewish woman up in the mountains and deliver her matzah.
