Two unrelated events happened to us today. Did I just say “unrelated”? I’ll let you be the judge.

At 8:00 in the morning we met a young college-age person. In response to our query, he replied that “might be Jewish” and that he was “not entirely sure.” Well, we know that being Jewish is like being alive: either you are or you are not. He explained, “My parents were born to Jewish parents, but I do not do anything Jewish, so I do not really know what that makes me.”

To make a long story short, by the time we parted ways he had marks on his arm from the tefillin straps that he had donned for the first time in his life, and a very clear picture in his mind that he most certainly was Jewish—as Jewish as Moses, King David and the Chief Rabbi of Israel.

It was not too much later that we saw a car with a strange apparatus on top. It was a Google Maps car-based camera taking photographs of the neighborhood to be used for the Street View feature. We smiled and waved.

How do these two events connect?

I’ll let you decide.

The car begins to rumble as we leave the paved life and venture onto the dirt roads of rural Vermont. As we lose our GPS signal, we hope the signs will guide us. A right, a left, a hill, a bridge, finally we reach our long awaited destination. We switch vehicles for a golf cart and weave in and out of the 13 acre fruit-tree nursery. The mountainous terrain, the quiet serenity, the delectable fresh picked berries, all gave rise to the reason why the Baal Shem Tov wanted Jews to leave the crowed congested cities and earn a living working the land. Such a peaceful atmosphere, constantly aware of G‑d's wonders, leads one to a feeling of enhanced spirituality.

Near the end of our tour, our host, a truly special person, takes us to a quiet corner. He looks towards us with a serious countenance and describes his troubles with his business on Shabbat. Being in the fruit-tree nursery business, where most customers are local householders, Saturday is prime time. As they grew in their Judaism, He and his wife wanted to have a proper Shabbat; a Shabbat full of quality family time, pleasant meals and restful afternoons. Coupled with that, they both knew how closing their nursery could damage, even kill, their much invested business. With a heavy, but determined and trustful heart, they decided to close their business for one trial Shabbat. After a few moments of reflection, he turns with a smile, "That whole first Shabbat, I was worried. Right after Shabbat I checked my messages. I got an order for over five thousand dollars. G‑d said, 'I am behind you, brother.'"

As our visit came to an end, We were impressed with such a trust and belief in G‑d. Us, two young yeshiva boys, never had such a challenge of risking our families' livelihood for the sake of Shabbat observance. But this experience fortified our hearts with the knowledge that G‑d truly looks after those who follow in His ways.

At the moment, we are based out of Stowe, Vermont. Many tourists come here to enjoy exhilarating hikes and breathtaking views. There are also locals; the're just harder to find.

We were driving from Lyndonville to Stowe. We had just completed some very nice visits and had some time on our hands. We were passing through a village called S. Johnsbury in an area known as the Northeast Kingdom.

We stopped at a local grocery to get some stuff and see what we would see. In the produce aisle, I heard a friendly "Hi." I turned around and saw an elderly couple smiling at me. We got into a conversation. It turns out that the husband is 89 years old and his wife is 87. They regularly drive over from their hicktown, where they have lived for fifty years, to buy provisions. They now divide their time between Florida and Vermont. They had never encountered Chabad before. We gave them an open invitation to Chabad of Burlington, and they said they hoped to make it over.

The other day, we met with a woman who lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere all by herself. She calls herself a hermit; she is fed up with people and thinks the entire species is cruel. She hadn't spoken to other humans in many years. She told us that she is a direct descendant of the famous Rabbi Akiva Eiger (1761-1838).

Today, we had a nice visit with some old folks who live on a farm, far from society. They both grew up in Alabama. They told us that they remember the roving rabbis who used to come with their hardboiled eggs and speak to their father. In their words, “Father really enjoyed these meetings. They meant a lot to him.”