the miracle of lights
Hanukkah began on Saturday night. Each night, we light the candles and sing the prayer together, my little family. Remy is beginning to catch on to Hebrew (although he has a l o n g way to go). He loves the kisses at the end of the prayers. "Now you kiss? he said exthusiastically on Saturday night, pushing M and I together.
Our beautiful hanukiah was a wedding present from my aunt-in-law. We have a matching shabbat candelabra, too. I'm sad to report that I found the artist on etsy earlier this year, but now I can't find the link...
Doesn't everybody want a miracle?
Eight days and nights, the oil in the Temple burned. Let's not get into frugality and finding resources that one didn't know existed within oneself or in the catacombs; the story is that G-d provided.
Everybody wants a miracle.
And so we light our lights. And we remember. We remember that even in the darkest day, the light will turn and return.
We remember that this world is in itself a miracle of existence.
And that there is only love.