A SMALL MIRACLE

A Chanukah Story

In most Jewish homes, in the middle of winter, there is a bright holiday celebration for eight days.  This event is called Chanukah – the festival of light.

Candles are lit for the duration of these nights.  One additional candle added for each day.  Special food is prepared. Children receive money and play games.  A special game is played with a top called a "Dreidel."  This is a four sided spinning top with the Hebrew letters N. G. H and Sh ("a big miracle happened there").

It is told that some 2200 years ago Israel was occupied by the Romans and Greeks.  Their Temple was defiled with pagan Gods – but a small group of Jewish zealots called the Macabees, managed to successfully fight the occupiers and oust them from their holy place.

They cleaned the house of worship and looked for the sanctified, pure oil to light at the altar.  They found enough oil for only one night, but a miracle happened, and the oil  lasted for eight days.

If one is very religious, this is a big miracle, but if one is not a great believer, this is still a good reason to have a pleasant holiday in mid winter.  Especially when the families get together, eat good food, share presents, and play games.

I always liked this celebration, and I light the small candles every night.  I also feel that it is a season for little miracles.  I've experienced some pleasant, unexpected happenings, that I later called "small miracles."

I almost look forward every year, during the Chanukah season, for something good to happen.

By some good fortune, luck and boldness, we were able to purchase a lot and build a great home near the bay with an unobstructed view of San Francisco Bay, the surrounding hills, the islands, and the bridges.  We also have a very large back yard, and I of course wanted a pleasant garden.

But first I had to remove the debris from the 1905 earthquake that was dumped there to fill in the tideland which originally covered this part of the future city.

It was back breaking work, as bricks, stones, cement blocks, and all kinds of rough material covered my space.

Finally it was time to start planting.  Bassya insisted that she must have a lilac tree.  I agreed, and we bought and planted a small French (pink blooms) shrub.

Evidently, this was to the liking of the little bush.  It grew quickly and spread all around - blooming every spring. Every Passover, when we had the whole family here, the table was set with pink, fragrant blooms, to the delight of all.

We never named the lilac, but I knew that it was a female.  She gave birth all around here with young growth.  I carefully removed some of them, being sure that part of the mother’s root came with it.

I gave cuttings to my neighbors and to my friends.  Lila had some in her home in San Carlos.  Mandi has some in her home in the Delta.  Lisa has some in her home too.  Fred Fox has two cuttings in Mill Valley.  John Levy has them on his deck in San Rafael.  They are even in Southern California, and when my brother was here from New Jersey, he took some cuttings home where they adjusted to the winters and  bloom furiously every spring.

I took good care of my lilac, and we both aged gracefully.

Last year was not good to me.  My eyesight started to fail me.  Cataracts came and two months ago I developed bad sun cancers on my face.  I was operated on, and I am going through radiation – this keeps me indoors.

I neglected my garden.  Monique is the gardener now.  She is doing a good job planting bulbs that should bloom next spring.

I write this in the winter of nature , and in the winter of my life.  It is the fifth day of Chanukah, the sun is out and I just watered down my beloved garden.

I try to look at my lilac tree.  I come nearer and touch the main trunk.  The thick strong growth fell into my grip.  I realized that is was just standing there – dead.

I carried it down to a quiet corner, laid it down for future disposal.  I touched another branch and it also was dead, yet the whole lilac was branched out and took up a large part of my garden.

I took tools and started to cut away all the dead wood.  It made me very sad.  Tears came to my eyes.  I realized the neglect – blooming trees must be trimmed.  Flowers, blooms, fruit grow only on the new shoots – on the young branches.

The ground has to be aerated, dug around the roots so they get air and help the keep the ground moist and fertilized.  I did not do it and my lilac is dying.  I sat down and bemoaned the passing of time, the old age, the process of dying.

Monique looked at me and understood my feeling.  She took my hand and led me to the tree, spread out the undergrowth, and showed me that from the center, where there was much decay, a new limb – strong and straight, was proudly growing, and on the top was a big bunch of flowering, fragrant lilacs.

I touched and smelled the pink flowers, and again tears came to my eyes.  From the ashes came a new life, and this is in mid-winter – the 5^th day of Chanukah.  Who says that there are no miracles?