Like most people I know in this day and age, I’m a juggler of jobs. A very organized juggler, but a juggler no less. I’m a full-time wife and mother. I have a natural-health clinic and work as aI began making calls to cancel my appointments for the night doula. As I go through my day trying to keep all these balls in the air, I pray that I should always be present at the right time, in the right place, for whoever needs me.

Thursday I had two clients scheduled to come in the evening. So when I received a call from my birth client that morning telling me that she thought labor was starting, I began making calls to cancel my appointments for the night. My 8 p.m. client didn’t answer. I tried throughout the day. No answer.

My day was spent back and forth. Juggling. Starting to cook for Shabbat. Picking up the kids from school, coordinating with my husband for the evening. Mid-afternoon, I tried again to call the evening client. No answer. I went over to see my laboring client at 6 p.m. I could tell that it was still just the beginning. I returned home and put the little ones to sleep. I looked up at the clock. It was 8, and there was a knock at the door. The client.

“Mommy, what Divine Providence that your client never answered!” My 9-year-old daughter and secretary of affairs exclaimed.

Yes, Divine Providence . . .

The woman sat before me, and I started to work on her feet (I’m also a reflexologist). Why did she come this evening to see me? Her story started to unfold. The beginning of her pregnancy was so difficult. Physically, emotionally. “It was terrible,” she told me. This was her fifth pregnancy, and she never experienced anything like this before. She felt so down, depressed. She felt like she was barely holding herself up each day as she sank deeper and deeper. She reached out to one woman that she knew, an older woman, a mentor.

This older woman was a good woman, but out of lack of knowledge or naiveté, she told her: “Don’t worry, it’s nothing. It’s normal.”

But it wasn’t normal. It was bad, really bad.

My client (Orit, we’ll call her) didn’t know what to do. She felt desperate. A part of her thought, “Maybe G‑d doesn’t want me to get help. Maybe I should give up?”

She sunk a bit deeper.

Her husband, thank G‑d, insisted that she continue to seek help and the right “messenger.”

A part of her screamed, “Don’t you see I tried, and it failed?! Maybe G‑d doesn’t want me to get help?”

Another part of her, thank G‑d, told her to keep trying. A relative offered to hire a babysitter to help with her children so she could rest in the afternoons. One day, the babysitter showed up late. The next time, she didn’t show up at all. Orit said to herself, “Maybe G‑d doesn’t want me to get help . . . ”

Again, she sank lower. But then a nurse told Orit about a nonprofit organization in Israel, NITZA, that helps women regain their mental and physical health when they find themselves falling in darkness during pregnancy or the postpartum stage afterwards. Her husband encouraged her. She made the call, and they sent her to me.

As she was telling me her story, I told myself: “Imagine if the call had gone through and if I had canceled on her! Maybe the woman didn’t go into active labor just so that I could be here tonight . . . ”

Orit left but not before we spoke about a practical plan for getting the help that she needs.

Imagine what it was like when Moshe, Israel’s dear leader, went up Mount Sinai to speak with G‑d. The nation waited for him patiently below, but they made a mistake in counting the day he told them he would return. They made a mistake because, as the Midrash describesThe women knew G‑d wouldn’t abandon them (Shabbos 89a), the Satan brought darkness and confusion, and told them that the hour when Moshe should arrive had passed. They got nervous, but didn’t yet believe him. The Satan then showed them an image of Moshe’s coffin. They raised their voices and cried. Now that their leader, their messenger, was gone, maybe G‑d didn’t want to redeem them, connect to them or be with them?

There was panic. Part of the nation sinned and built a golden calf. They were driven to this sin because when it appeared that Moshe wasn’t coming, they felt devastated, as if they witnessed their world collapsing in front of them and they lost control of their senses. The nation sank lower and deeper; everything was dark. There were a few groups who didn’t participate in the sin of the golden calf. One of them was the women.

Women. The women of the Exodus knew that G‑d wouldn’t abandon them. He would still send a leader, a messenger. He would send the right person at the right time for the right task.

It was the women of the desert who wouldn’t give up and left us a legacy that not one of us should ever give up. We fall into darkness and even despair. We look around. Where is our leader? Where is the messenger? Will our solution really come? It didn’t come yesterday. I don’t see him. Maybe it’s because G‑d doesn’t want to redeem us? Maybe G‑d doesn’t want to save us or doesn’t want us to get the help that we need.

No! It is written that in each generation, a person worthy to be our redeemer is born.1 That means that a person—even in her darkest moment, even if he feels disappointment and let down—must keep looking and searching, believing that G‑d will send the right person at the right time for the right task.

Even when there is darkness and confusion, we must know that light and clarity will come.