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I was not in the mood for the holiday season. I was a curmudgeon, grumpy, acting like the Jim Carey character of the Grinch from Dr. Seus's book. Also some Bah Humbug thrown in from Dickens. I really had to force myself to celebrate the miracle of the holiday. A celebration of oil for the temple that lasted 8 days instead of one. Jews use menorahs, eight candles with something called the shamus in the center taller than all the rest to light the others. Usually the electric version is in windows but I have heard that in Israel there are some dwellings with some kind of nook or cranny on the outside for the menorah to celebrate the miracle.
The first night I started saying the prayers for the miracle and commandment to light the candles, my mother stood up from her chair and for the first time since her illness finished them with me and when I put on the holiday music Maoz Tzur, she hummed along and she had the most beautific look on her face, she told me I was a wonderful daughter and she thanked me for lighting the candles for her and for the music. I felt that this was the true miracle of the holiday.
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