This tea time I stood and watched the sun setting from an upstairs window. It began with delicate strips of pink on a deep blue sky. A lemon hue rose from the horizon as the pink strips deepened to salmon and then red. I know that scientists would willingly give me a factual explanation for this phenomenon but I'm no scientist. It felt as if this was a beautiful light show for my eyes only, in which case it must surely be classed as a miracle.
On Tuesday evening we will be lighting the first candle for Chanukah. This festival is about the power of light and about miracles.
As I explained in
last year's post,
miracles don't have to be as huge as the parting of the Red Sea. Watching my daughter heal after major surgery, seeing my grandson complete his first term at school in spite of his diabetes and all the restrictions this places on his life, meeting and sharing special time with old friends - these are the miracles that I'm talking about.
I firmly believe that it doesn't matter if we're celebrating Chanukah, Diwali, Christmas, the mid-winter solstice or a similar festival. Surely what matters is that we're all hoping for the same thing, for miracles that make our lives a little easier, for a light that illuminates our darkness.
I explained in a bit more detail what Chanukah is about in a post in 2011. You can read it here:
Festival of Lights.
