A Photo/Video Recap of Thanks and Praise - Chanukah 5786

Where did the past eight days go? 

I don't know - but they sure went quickly! 

"If you know me at all, then surely you know that at Chanukah time I love to be PO" (in Israel). I've blogged about this before so I'll skip the explanation but, alas, this year we were "shom" (outside the Land) yet thankful for the images and videos that have filled my phone, making me feel closer to where the Chanukah lights shined their brightest. 

No need to tell you that the very first news report about Chanukah this year, from the farthest corner of the globe, was far from joyous. But one particular video that came out of that tragedy might have been the most inspiring of the week. If you haven't seen it, you must:

And indeed each night our menorahs lit up some of the darkest places...

From the snowy peak of Har Chermon (Mount Hermon)

to the far corners of Syria.

In Nur El Shams (West Bank)

 and in Gaza.

In Eilat, where 450 war widows and orphans were treated to a special Shabbat Chanukah:

No, we don't turn off our menorahs. 

We light them with thanks and praise, with love and laughter.

In sparkling silver

and dazzling designs.

We eat spectacular sufganiyot

and spin our dreidels non-stop.

Every day, for eight days, we thanked and we praised the One Who makes miracles happen for us all year long. And we thank and we praise those who inspire us to keep spreading our light and those who protect us from those who wish we wouldn't. And we Remember Jerusalem, where our menorah will soon shine brighter than any we've ever seen (photo not yet available).

As the sun sets on this 8th day of Chanukah, I'm packing up the menorahs but holding tight to their light to illuminate my path through the dark winter months and beyond. Wishing you a blessed month of Teves and a choref ba'ree (a healthy winter).

Going South, East, West and North

My online dictionary tells me that "going south" means something is "deteriorating or declining in quality, condition or performance".  

To me, "going south" means quite the opposite. It means boarding a bus in Afula and heading south to Jerusalem.

Geographically, south. Emotionally, not as easy to describe. It seems a bit odd that one of the wonderful things about living up north is going south but there's more truth to that than I can sum up in a blog post.

The bus is comfortable. The other riders create a colorful tapestry of Israeli society - sisters, brothers and the distant cousin who gets on at Umm al-Fahm. 

The road is wide open.

For most of the trip, 

the scenery is pastoral, agricultural.

But as we make that final ascent of the Judean Hills, the pace quickens; the adrenalin begins to rush. Welcome to Jerusalem, City of Fire.

From the Central Bus Station, I go out into the sun and hop on the light rail. Proudly, almost giddily, I swipe my newly upgraded "Kav Zahav" card which entitles me to totally free public transportation anywhere in Israel. 

                                                     (Age has its privileges.)

The train heads eastward. In minutes, I am standing outside the walls of the Old City, entering her gates and walking, walking...down narrow alleyways and slippery stone steps, pausing briefly at first sight of the Temple Mount to tear the extra shirt I brought along, quietly mourning the past, softly praying for the future.

"And then I'm in this place where everything feels right. 

My heart is calm. My soul is lit. My thoughts are positive. My vision in clear. My faith is stronger than ever. 

I am at peace. At peace with where I've been. At peace with where I'm headed." *  I don't have to Remember Jerusalem right now because I am at one with her. I am Home. 

In what seems like a snap, I'm far away in the west 

with half my heart back east

 longing to be in the north 

so that I can once again go south

and catch the next train to the destination of my dreams, our dreams...

Hoping to see you among my fellow passengers.

* "And then I'm in this place..." - paraphrased from an anonymous meme sent to me by a dear friend after her recent aliyah.