At the end of this week's Parashat Naso , the Torah goes into great detail describing the donations brought by the Nesi'im to inaugurate the Mishkan. Remarkably, each Nasi brought the exact same offering, yet the Torah repeats the full list of items again and again—spanning about 56 pesukim . Why such repetition? The Torah is teaching us a profound lesson: Hashem treasures the efforts of every individual . Even when people perform a mitzvah as part of a group, Hashem values the actions of each person separately. In a shul, there might be hundreds of people reciting the same words, but to Hashem, every word uttered by each person is uniquely precious. There is no such thing as Hashem getting "bored" of repetition. He cherishes everything we say and everything we do—every tefillah, every act of kindness, every mitzvah. The same applies when we experience His presence in our lives. Even when similar moments of hashgachah peratit repeat, each one feels new and meaningful. We're often moved by others' stories of hashgachah , and they awaken in us a desire to see Hashem's hand in our own lives too. Sometimes, we think: Those stories are inspiring, but they never happen to me. Yet we are encouraged to always hope and pray that they do. About a month ago, a story circulated about a chatan who wished to feel his late father's presence at his wedding. Miraculously, around that time, someone from Israel arrived in New York with a letter that the chatan's father had written decades earlier. Through an incredible sequence of events, the letter ended up in the hands of this chatan —dated with the exact date of his wedding. The letter, addressed to a chatan on his wedding day, was written by his father years earlier on that very same Hebrew date. The message felt as though it had come directly from his father, offering blessings from shamayim . This story was shared at a siyyum on Masechet Bava Metzia . In the crowd sat a man named *Yaakov. Hearing the story, he silently wished that he too could receive something from his late father, who had passed away over 20 years ago. The very next day, as Yaakov opened his mail, he noticed an envelope that looked like another routine request. But inside, to his astonishment, was a handwritten letter—written by his father 50 years earlier to a close friend. That friend had just discovered the letter while cleaning for Pesach and thought it would be meaningful to send it to the son of his old friend. Yaakov was overwhelmed. He couldn't stop reading the letter. As he reached the bottom, he noticed a few words written in the opposite direction—a postscript from his father asking his friend where he was up to in Masechet Bava Metzia . Yaakov was stunned. He had just returned from a siyyum on Bava Metzia , where he had wished for a message from his father. Still in disbelief, Yaakov went to his sefarim shelf and opened his Gemara Bava Metzia . Inside was a sticky note marking that he still had to complete pages 50 through 54. It was as if his father was reminding him: Your siyyum isn't complete yet—finish it properly. In that moment, he felt a powerful connection, a personal hashgachah that touched his soul. Yes, the stories we hear really can happen to us. Hashem treasures everything we do, and we are uplifted when we recognize His presence in our lives. May we always feel close to Hashem. May we always sense His guidance. And may we continue to be inspired by the miracles—big and small—that surround us every day. Shabbat Shalom.