I am a supervising mashgiach in a facility belonging to one of the OK‘s largest companies. This plant requires frequent visits to kasher from dairy to pareve. The entire production schedule of this facility is largely based around my availability to kasher.

Shortly before last Pesach, as part of my Chabad House shlichus, I was taking a community trip to Eretz Yisroel. I had to push off scheduling a visit to the facility, but it was going to require koshering, so I scheduled a trip to Humboldt, TN (about an hour from Memphis) for the Sunday before Pesach.

Of course, I had a lot going on at home and at my Chabad House since it was only a day or two before Pesach, but I needed to visit this facility. I was running late, but when I jumped into my car I noticed I did not have any boxes of shmurah matzah with me (I just had my car cleaned for Pesach). “I’m a Chabad rabbi. How could I leave Memphis without boxes of shmurah matzah?” Even though Humboldt was a small town, probably devoid of Jews, I just couldn’t travel there Erev Pesach without shmurah matzah, so I ran back to my office to get a few boxes.

As I pulled off the highway in Jackson, TN, about 20 minutes from my destination, while on a phone call, a second call went into my voicemail. I checked the message and, lo and behold, it was a man in Jackson asking for matzah. I called him back and told him that I was actually in Jackson right now with matzah in my car! Within three minutes I was standing at this man’s front door with a box of shmurah matzah in hand. He mentioned that he had called two other places, and realizing it was Sunday, did not even know what prompted him to bother leaving a message on my voicemail. I told him something deep was obviously going on between him and Hashem  and I was just the messenger– true hashgocha pratis.