Having lost her father to a heart attack, and with a mother whose disability keeps her from being able to work, 20-year-old Sara has long been the breadwinner of her family. Barely scraping by to pay the monthly bills, any ‘extras’ are out of the question.
Now that Sara is engaged, however, the situation has become more complicated. With absolutely no funds for a hall, a wedding dress, or an apartment to live in after marriage, she and her chassan have two options: Raise the necessary funds in the next two weeks, or cancel the wedding.
The wedding Sara dreams of is not extravagant. In fact, it barely meets the criteria of ‘wedding.’ Her dream is to be able to leave her mother and sisters with peace of mind, and to rent her own place. Perhaps, if she is lucky, to even have a couch or dining room table. Some would say that these are not a luxury, but a basic prerequisite for dignity.
The bar is low. The ‘get a job’ response often hurled at those in need holds no water, as all involved have jobs.
With a screen between us to maintain a level of separation, Sara’s story will likely be skimmed over and forgotten. Those who see her humanity, however, may step forward to help this young woman get married. These donors are the readers who dare to imagine their own untimely passing, their own children struggling to pay the bills without them.
A victim of fate and loss, young Sara and her family will watch her kallah fund page closely, as her wedding date approaches. Soon they will have to assess whether or not the event needs to be cancelled.
“Praying,” reads poignant campaign page text. “Praying for a miracle.”