Every year, we have a wonderful tradition of celebrating Hannukah with our dear friends, Lisa and Kate and their families. I had braced myself for Hannukahless years for the duration of our stay in RSA, but was so pleased when Tanya invited us to celebrate the first night of Hannukah with her as her stand-in family. And then also to come to her bigger celebration on the 5th night.
As we always count on at Tanya's gatherings, those who came were a wonderful collection of folks representing so many cultures and countries. For this night, Tanya had especially invited those of her friends who are open and eager to step in as her family and share her culture and traditions.
Many things were the same as our wonderful Grace, Ellis/Cragg, Hopkins/MacLeod tradition in the states -- the latkas with apple sauce and sour cream, the telling of the story, the lighting of the candles, the great food, and mostly the feeling of being so blessed.
And a few things were different. Tanya had materials available so anyone who was so inclined could make their own hanukkiyah (which I have always incorrectly called a menorah). The table became filled with beautiful handmade hanukkiyahs, and once all were lit, the room positively flickered and glowed with magical light.
Tanya also asked us to write , in the spirit of Hannukah, something we were grateful for, a miracle in our lives, or a freedom we enjoyed. After the lighting of the candles, we could share what we had written and then we all hung our papers on a line strung across the room.
After we ate, the dreidel table was opened, and soon the peaceful, blessed feeling was replaced by the adrenelin of intense competition. The stakes were high - chocolate and fizzy pops. Laps were filled and depleted of booty as the dreidel spun. Civility went out the window. We thought best to make our departure when both our kids had a bag each full of cavity producers, and only a few tears had been shed. As Donkey says in A Shrek Christmas, it isn't Christmas until somebody cries, and I imagine the same applies to a Hannukah well celebrated.
Let me end by saying, thank you universe for putting Tanya in our lives to give us family here in South Africa.
Many things were the same as our wonderful Grace, Ellis/Cragg, Hopkins/MacLeod tradition in the states -- the latkas with apple sauce and sour cream, the telling of the story, the lighting of the candles, the great food, and mostly the feeling of being so blessed.
And a few things were different. Tanya had materials available so anyone who was so inclined could make their own hanukkiyah (which I have always incorrectly called a menorah). The table became filled with beautiful handmade hanukkiyahs, and once all were lit, the room positively flickered and glowed with magical light.
Tanya also asked us to write , in the spirit of Hannukah, something we were grateful for, a miracle in our lives, or a freedom we enjoyed. After the lighting of the candles, we could share what we had written and then we all hung our papers on a line strung across the room.
After we ate, the dreidel table was opened, and soon the peaceful, blessed feeling was replaced by the adrenelin of intense competition. The stakes were high - chocolate and fizzy pops. Laps were filled and depleted of booty as the dreidel spun. Civility went out the window. We thought best to make our departure when both our kids had a bag each full of cavity producers, and only a few tears had been shed. As Donkey says in A Shrek Christmas, it isn't Christmas until somebody cries, and I imagine the same applies to a Hannukah well celebrated.
Let me end by saying, thank you universe for putting Tanya in our lives to give us family here in South Africa.
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