Happy Holiday!
Designed to be a Winter Holiday Treasure!
An opportunity to Share Special Memories and Christmas Stories.Visitors invited to share points of view and add input!
Special Treat! The Wonders of the Season at the White House ~ and we are all "most welcome"!
Legend - fable - fiction
The Robin's Christmas Story from "A Christmas Stocking" by Louise Betts Egan per Aussie friend, Sue Briscoe
On that first Christmas, it is said, the night was wrapped in a bitter chill. The small fire in the stable was nearly out, and the Mother Mary worried that her baby would be cold, she turned to the animals about her and asked them for help.
"Could you blow on the embers," she asked the ox, "so the fire might continue to keep my son warm?"
But the ox lay sound asleep on the stable floor and did not hear her. Next, Mary asked the donkey horse and the sheep to breathe life back into the fire, but the sleeping animals did not hear Mary. She wondered what to do.
Suddenly, Mary heard a fluttering of little wings. Looking up, she saw a plain, brown-coloured little robin fly into the stall. This robin had heard Mary calling to the animals and had come to help her himself, he went over to the dying fire and flapped his wings hard.
His wings were like little bellows, huffing and puffing air onto the embers, until they glowed bright red again. He continued to fan the fire, singing all the while, until the ashes began to kindle.
With his beak, the robin picked up some fresh, dry sticks and tossed them into the fire. As he did, a flame suddenly burst forth and burned the little bird's breast a bright red. But the robin simply continued to fan the fire until it crackled brightly and warmed the entire stable. The Baby Jesus slept happily.
Mary thanked the robin for all he had done. She looked tenderly at his red breast, burned by the flame, and said "From now on, let your red breast be a blessed reminder of your noble deed."
And to this day, the robin's red breast covers his humble heart. back to top
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True story
Stocking Stuffers ~
The Strawberry Top
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| Reward for the Return of This Missing Holiday Favorite !
No matter how much we love the Winter Holidays with all the trimmings,
The fun of stocking stuffers is the refreshing escape from
the "too-much-ness" of it. It renews the awareness that the true spirit of Christmas is
a small and shining thing, a spinning thing that connects people!
My late husband carried, always, a tire-pressure gauge that I once put in his stocking for safety on long
trips. He carried it, when he travelled by car, plane, train or otherwise, as much for sentiment as for practicum. A funny little thing can be like that!
And so the Strawberry Top story is one to share:
One year, I purchased a little wooden strawberry-shaped top to add to stocking stuffers.
Three inches high, in the shape of a strawberry, and with a simple green spinning stick, protruding at the place for the stem, it was painted bright red-pink, with green strawberry seeds dotted all over it, and it cost all of 75 cents, at last-minute holiday closeout, at a local decorator-shop sale.
With lots of things of the day, under the tree, I did not give it much thought. It was just a little thing to look classic and cute in the stocking for our "very-good-all-year-long" children.
But, on Christmas morning, after the thrill of the opening of gifts and glee and hugs all around, our children were fascinated by the mirthful little top. They loved their gifts, many of them had been high on their list of fervent hopes and wishes, but the Strawberrry top was the surprise, in that it truly won center stage for their attention!
Each Christmas, thereafter, the top was among the first of Holiday trimmings to be brought out from storage and we all became gleeful at the thought of spinning that tiny Strawberry Top, as an effective ritual, signalling the start of holiday celebrations !
As the years passed, spinning that top became a special moment and a focus for the warmest and most loving and dearest holiday feelings!
A wonderful top!
An amazing top!
A remarkable spinning strawberry top!
When our spaniel pup put a toothmark in it, teething, we held our breath, at top-spinning time...would it spin? A wooden top depends on a delicate balance. The pup-chewing might have ruined it!
But it spun merrier than ever! And with our "otherwise-very-very-good" pup's toothmark in it, we loved it all the more!
The marvelous top would spin and spin, and spin and spin, and spin and spin - for more than a full minute - and more than that sometimes! My sci-tech husband was impressed! Each time, proclaiming the strong and merry life, in the very smallest things, that always touches us so much to heart, and especially, at the Winter Holidays!
Our children were in their early teens, the summer their Father died suddenly, and you can imagine, that first Christmas following brought some really sensitive moments - that first one without him, except for his spirit, with us, always !
But the Strawberry top earned its honors, as I whisked it out with the children, so solemn , at my side ... hushed... The quick and lite and firm twirl to the now slightly-worn wooden stem...
"I guess we're ok", I said, as the top spun merrily and imperturbably, on the tabletop... bright, steady and stong - downright plucky! "The Strawberry Top still spins ! "
Even after they grew up and "flew up" to fine life on their own, they sought that top at the holidays!
A barometer, of a sort... life changes, but love is eternal!
Our grownup daughter made an emerald green velvet pouch for it, with bright red velvet lining, and tiny clear crystal beads, like snowflakes on the outside, and a satin cord drawstring to close the pouch and protect it snugly.
If I was visiting them at the holidays, the top, securely in its pouch, would come along, and make the
key moment with "we-three" together and loving one another for another wonderful year! How nice, to have a thing, so
easy to take along a special bit of magic!
It got to be so sweet a story, you can see why it is here, at my little arts & writings website. When a strawberry top finds your family circle, it is special, and should be shared.
And then, last year, it disappeared, somewhere along the path of holiday travels.
We stayed calmmmmmm and grownup...and simply conducted a calmmmm and grownup hunt for it - "high and low", at first, and ever since, whenever it seemed right.
But...no Strawberry Top!
My last hope was that I had carefully stashed it away with the other Holiday decorations, and simply did not remember doing so. A small thing can disappear among the collection of decorations. But nooooooo ... it is not there at this writing, a few days before Christmas.
I am ready to take out an ad in the New York Times to find it ... and, since I have the skill to do so, I have resigned myself, to the task of making a new one. I'd say "buy" but we want one just like the old one, but not lost.
The holiday is a merry one for us, this year, and we must not be greedy for such merriment at the Holidays, above all...greed is bad. We already have so much to share! But somehow, it's not the same, without the Strawberry Top!
Today, the answer came: I thought, "If the spirit of Strawberry Top, is , indeed, what we experienced,
maybe we dropped it on the street or in a restaurant or in church. Maybe someone needed the Strawberry Top more than we did! And the angels who brought the little wooden top to us, in the first place, may have spirited it out to them! If so, that helps the loss ... makes it better and even lovely!
If someone really needed the Strawberry Top more than we ... then it is surely theirs, with our love, for the delight it brought us all those years!
And the little miracle, just when we needed it most!
May that miracle be theirs, now!
Still...
"If you find our top, please let us know" A small reward would be happily given!
The story, and our memory, will keep the Strawberry Top alive within us, always! And may each of us, and each of you, find and enjoy a Strawberry Top of our very own!
Mirth on Earth !
Elle Fagan
May your holidays merrily spin, and spin, also, and always....
happy holiday!
..............elle
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Angels !
This is the start of a new array here, just in time for Christmas 2008
Items are available for sale, but some are just for Holiday Spirit ~ sketches, ideas, and more to come!
If Christmas is for children, I begin with one of my son, and end with one of my Daughter, with their wings on!
Do find me to talk about any of them, with your own comments and ideas. ~ elle
Son, Peter in his Wings ~ 5x7inches - watercolor - priceless!
Guardian Angel Egg - scan of 3-D eggcraft, she minded me while I did one for the White House - N.F.S.
Detail from "British Postcards" - "... I will send you an Angel, to guard your way, lest you dash your foot upon a stone."
"Semper Fideles - Iraq" 9x12inches, unframed - The Angel who guards those in danger for our sake!
Victorian Angel - Scan 3x5inches - Antique postcard image of the way we dream of Christmas!
British Postcards - 15x22inches, unframed - "Draft of 'Home for Christmas'
Elegant Nativity - 8x10inches unframed - Something a bit different but true!
We celebrate the Birth because He is the Newborn King,
and this one is say how special is this Nativity to us!
Children's Angel 1960 - 8x10 unframed -
one in the style of our own childhood.
Beslan Angel - Study -7x10inches, unframed - This one is just the start-sketch for a painting motivated by
the Beslan Massacre in Ossetia in 2004, in which 186 children died -
the Angel bears one of them, in sorrowful compassion.
I was taken away from it, before I could do the final draft, but remember them, still.
Central Park Angel - Study 5x7inches, unframed
You may recognize the famous and lovely Central Park, Angel of Waters- Bethesda Fountain
Angel Gloria Banner - 9x12inches unframed - the "Gloria!" will appear on her banner on Christmas Eve!
another one from childhood artworks done with the Sisters of Saint Joseph 1960
Visualization Angel - 9x12inches, unframed
I know who I am, but if I were an Angel, trying to stop a war,
maybe I would aim to be like this one, I thought one day, and sketched it.
Study for "Saint Michael at the Gates" 5x7inches, unframed -
one of a series that reviews the early chronicles of the Angels.
My Daughter in her Wings - graphic 6x8inches - part of the fun of being an artist, family-style.
We 'play a little piano',but she got very good at flute and clarinet and keeps a recorder now.
"And the Angel said unto them,... Fear not: for, behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people!"
-Luke 2:10
The Angel said , "To ALL people....."
and so the delight of the season is for you, as well!......elle
It's about...
a child is born, a savior!
All is cold and dead around us, but a new life
transforms the Winter into a Radiant Spring of the Human Soul!
I hope you enjoyed your visit to this collection of favorite Angel Images,and do return, because the collection is growing here !
Happy Holiday!
True story
" Hopper "
It began at a special time and place!
A friend's apartment featured a veritable computer think-tank, in a cedarwood-panelled country home office, full of windows and window coverings, books and comfy chairs for the long hours online,
in hilly upstate Connecticut.
We were working on our new websites, sometimes with two or more friends, when the house cat, Snowpuff, came to the door and meowed to come in.
My friend, a mature type, was not normally all that expressive, so I jumped a bit, when I heard his burst of laughter, as he opened the door:
Snowpuff posed in the doorway with a companion, and gestured for permission
for his new friend to come in, along with him.
The weather was bad. Spring in Connecticut is a delight, its alleuvial soil and cold winter investments yielding an extravaganza of flowers, but sometimes backslides, with an Easter snowfall, or damp and chilly rains.
And Snowpuff's new friend was a baby squirrel.
There were no little ones in the house...not much fear of disease risk to a child, from befriending an animal from the wild.
The baby squirrel sat alongside the cat, politely following his host's lead, as any two pals might do, and so my friend laughed again, and invited them both in.
The two entered in fine spirit.
And with Snowpuff hosting, the baby squirrel found the food and water bowls and litter
box in under ten minutes, as we wondered at such an instant adaptation.
The guest squirrel was soon bringing laughter throughout the
house on that cold, grey and rainy day. He interacted at once, and related to the three adults at the home that day, as well as to his feline host. He seemed to scamper everywhere, hopping from
chairback to chairback as if to imitate his natural habitat....so we
named him "Hopper". He was small and clean and light, so his antics were amusing and not destructive.
The weather did not improve and Hopper spent the night, with no issues. He brought warmth and some extra sweetness to the home, in the discouraging weather.
We declared the event in good order and went back to work, all in a merry mode.
In subsequent days,
Hopper would keep us happy company, and the place glowed a bit extra at the new life it protected.
One day,scampering about, Hopper found me at work at the computer and found his way into my pocket ,and
began a habit of spending naptime there.....simply climbing in and going
to sleep!
Again, our unexpected guest earned his keep!
However, baby squirrels grow quickly, and soon Hopper was chewing the
wickerwork , and "going wild" , the scampering no more; his movements were now powerful, and our place was too tame.
Not long
after, with "his host Snowpuff", on one of his forays out to the yard,
he did not return.
The 'way of the wild', they'd say in olden days. But no matter... he'd done it right for us while he was among us,
and I wondered if he would be forever a "special squirrel", from his
experience with us... would he impact his natural world specially? But, again, we all had to let it go, and get back to work, through moments when, "conspicuous in its absence" was the life of Hopper with
us. The glow remained.
A few weeks later, Hopper returned! He ran right indoors without hesitation, too shelter from another serious storm. And scampered easily right back out, when the weather cleared. Laughing again, we were relieved to see that, apparently Hopper's re-adjustment to the wild went just fine, and that he was one smart squirrel, to see to himself so cleverly.
We mention him occasionally, to this day.
I do not recommend "getting friendly" with undomesticated animals - it can be dangerous.
Still, for us that time, it worked out well, and reminded us of the grand truths of life and its rights.
May we all respect all life in all forms, always, and celebrate the exchange of life among all life forms, for the good of it all, to our best ability.
Thank you , Hopper!
True Story
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...and, as promised, The Story of Oscar the Mouse...
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Our homes and neighborhood were classic ~ we lived in two, during my childhood, and this one, in 1959, was part of my Mother's inheritance from her Father, and when things were lean during the big depression, one of the upstairs bedrooms was used for a hatchery for the baby chicks that would provide 'eggs for sale' for extra money, and food for the family of many children. When my Mother inherited it, later, in happy and prosperous times, she and my Father remodeled it completely, and he carved her name in a heart on one of the foundation supports ... and it was a showplace: with respectable property attached and gardens of mountain laurel, iris, forsythia, azalea, pussywillow, dill, chinese lanterns, roses, and trees of crabapple, macintosh apples, green pears, purple plums and huge maples with a swing always there, and evergreens to
tantalize us with promise of Christmas, all year long!
This year, however, we had a problem: construction of new homes, begun that summer, just across the street, was going quietly and beautifully and our real estate value expected to improve from the neighborhood upgrade; if only the clearing of the field hadn't created many homeless field mice, the project would have been flawless.
We were happy and loving people, but our aging, faithful spaniel could not take a cat in the house just then, so, suddenly being "overrun by the little critters" created a lot of work, and as much laughter as frustration ... and it was a mighty challenge for a bit ... they were everywhere !
My Libra father did not even like a mousetrap, but here we were, forced to learn, at his instruction, how to properly bait one, and set it effectively and "disinfect like crazy" before and after success with it, since such animals can carry serious disease.
My Mother, aghast, recruiting my Sister and I to sweep and scrub, to clean after the odd-smelling leavings found everywhere ... including the drawer that held our eating utensils ! Seated at the table, the acoustic ceiling above us echoed a "tick-a-ta-tick-a-tuh-tick-tick-tick" , as the mice ran across ... stopping dinner and dinner conversation and discouraging appetite for continuation of the normally jolly time. After bedtime, the quiet in the house created more of the same, as our marauders scampered about the attic, and spaces between floors and walls, and basement.
The traps were set in earnest when the harmless nibbling cut the wire on one of the burners of our kitchen range, causing dangerous sparks, blown fuse and dysfunctioning range burner; and one night at dinner, we teamed up, again, as a survival group, when a glance at the scritchity noise overhead was met by the glance returned from one of the mice, whose industry had bored a hole right through the munchy acoustic tile ...
we looked at one another with big eyes, unable to swallow our food, but always social, we remembered, "Well, how do you do ?!" , to this unexpected guest... More traps, and success, and one more demonstration from our Father: acoustic tile patch repair 101.
The New England summer had peaked, and many rodents hibernate, so, thanks to our responsible activism, and the season, we experienced relief ... "wow! no more mice!" ... and we did not realize how much bedlam the mice caused,
till the relief and fatigue we shared afterward made it very clear ... my goodness! For a family-bonding experience, we would have been happy to "skip it", though the chase had often made us a laughing team, in this tv-sitcom misadventure.
Time passed, as did Summer, and Autumn, and the uproar in our home calmed and then shifted into Winter Holiday preparations. It had been some time since our ' Battle of River Street Field Mice '. But now, we were the "scurry-ers", with so much to do! Cooking, at least, was again safe and hygienic, without the mice, and decorations and shopping and choir and
Christmas-caroling group and the sacred re-enactment of the birth of Jesus, and midnight mass, and Santa, restoring all the warm and generous feelings, perhaps, dented by the in-house assault of a few months before.
Relaxing with television after another busy Holiday Preparation day, my brother, wide-eyed, silently tugged at the sleeve next to him, and so on, till he had our attention ... he pointed to the very center of the livingroom carpet, just behind the TV area: Aaaaaa... mouse ! ... sitting up and politely alert, as though he had been invited to join our circle! He was theater, in his cheery innocence; solitary, self-contained and thoughtfully sharing the television program, he kept to his spot, as though it truly was his spot. We simply stared in disbelief, and
determined not to lose our Christmas Spirit, warily welcomed him to the circle and enjoyed the Television Program with our unexpected and unlikely guest. Sometime during the show, he must have left,
since he was gone when we next glanced in his direction. Off and on, but ongoing, throughout that holiday, the mouse reappeared ... and an imaginary, smiling, rapport developed among us, and our "Secret Sharer" of-another-sort, as he carefully took the same spot on the carpet, and seemed to fit right in. After the first few visits, my Brother named him "Oscar" - he was quite the "ham" - and after all the "mouse-in-the-house" troubles, this Christmas Mouse brought warmth and smiles and a secret among us, since most of our neighbors would not understand this "about-face" rapport with a rodent.
Our Father sent us to our Compton's Encyclopedia and the library helped: Like Cricket on the Hearth,
Christmas Mouse stories are very old in literature, since it is normal for them to scurry into a warm spot from the strong, cold, weather. In days before good household disinfecting cleaners, they probably caused a health problems, and worse, and sometimes still can and do. I know we boiled the place, stem to stern, at home, till the mice stopped invading.
And yet, Oscar's visit was a "different story, altogether"! And my Father, being always the Libra philosopher, captured our eyes and attention with that look that says, ' there is an important life lesson to be learned here.'
"And now," he said, we have a "Christmas Mouse" story of our own. Silent, but, in happy warm agreement, my Mother smiled: don't touch him, but, ok, for now ... the extra disinfecting from him this winter will probably save us from colds, too !
Sometime thru that holiday, Oscar ended his visits,
but more than forty years later, the memory is still a delight!
I hope you think so , too!
May we celebrate the special winter holiday renewal of the fundamental spirit of Hospitality throughout the Season, especially for unexpected and unusual Guests ! ~ elle
image credit: Animation Factory
Author's Note:
I like to share stories of "Life Before the Age of Aquarius", both to enrich the understanding of our grownup children, and to
praise our parents....
our life force did not come from nowhere...
it came from them...
from their achievements and their frustrations...
we are, to the best of our own limited ability, their justification...
and this is the time of year to bring it all up and feed ourselves through cold months and difficult moments...
on the love, the courage and the fun and the beauty of their gifts to us!
My own Mother was double-orphaned, but with a lucky genome, and property, and lots of siblings...
through the years, as different from one another they may have become,
they would bond to learn, to work, and make and share a loving home and be loving parents, because of the parents they barely knew...
I just want to praise them! After having parented, and reached midlife, I am so impressed with them, all they did and felt and shared and gifted to us...
All of them were greatly influenced by their spouses' family values, and so it is simple logic that I write here, since my Father's people were hometown Irish-American, loved work, arts, and family loyalties, and sometimes, America, most of all!
Thank you !
In the Fities and early sixties, The Magi were Mother, Father and God!
All year long we celebrate our diversity in work and play, but at the Winter Holidays, we honor
our ethnicity specially. So much of the beauty of my holiday memories shines from the special
"lost art" feeling from the childhood ethnic observances. So I hope to share these stories well.
My children
find it helps their understanding of their elders, and since it is so foreign to them, they seem
to be truly interested! My generation did the corporate relocations, and so had little awareness of their roots except for visits with a few of them, and too few of them. Grown, they celebrate their
previously-hidden soul - the many, many relatives astound and delight them, and I suspect that it helps them maintain balance in their futuristic psyches.
This page, then, is a bit more than a simple sharing of the luminous things at the Winter HoliDays, but I hope my visitors enjoy at least that much !
~
The True Meaning of Christmas
Just a week before Christmas I had a visitor. This is how it
happened.
I just finished the household chores for the night and was
preparing to go to bed when I heard a noise in the front of the
house. I opened the door to the front room, and to my surprise, Santa
himself stepped out from behind the Christmas tree. He placed his
finger over his mouth so I would not cry out.
"What are you doing?" I
started to ask him.
The words choked in my throat, as I saw he had tears in his eyes. His
usual jolly manner was gone. Gone was the eager boisterous soul we
all know. He then answered me with a simple statement, TEACH THE
CHILDREN! I was puzzled: What did he mean? He anticipated my
question, and with one quick movement brought forth a miniature toy
bag from behind the tree.
As I stood there, bewildered, Santa said, Teach the Children! Teach
them the old meaning of Christmas. The meaning that a now-a-days
Christmas has forgotten!
Santa then reached in his bag and pulled out a FIR TREE and placed it
on the mantle. Teach the Children that the pure green color of the
stately fir tree remains green all year round, depicting the
everlasting hope of mankind. All the needles point heavenward,
making it a symbol of man's thoughts turning
toward heaven.
He again reached into his bag and pulled out a brilliant STAR. Teach
the Children that the star was the heavenly sign of promises long
ago. God promised a Savior for the world, and the star was the sign
of fulfillment of that promise.
He then reached into the bag and pulled out a CANDLE. Teach the
Children that the candle symbolizes that Christ is the light of the
world, and when we see this great light we are reminded of He who
displaces the darkness.
Once again he reached into his bag and then removed a WREATH and
placed it on the tree. Teach the Children that the wreath symbolizes
the eternal nature of love. Real love never ceases. Love is one
continuous round of affection.
He then pulled out from his bag an ornament of HIMSELF. Teach the
Children that Santa Claus symbolizes the generosity and good will we
feel during the month of December.
He reached in again and pulled out a HOLLY LEAF. Teach the Children
the holly plant represents immortality. It represents the crown of
thorns worn by our Savior. The red holly berries represent blood shed
by Him.
Next he pulled out a GIFT from the bag and said, "Teach the Children
that God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.
Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift. Teach the Children that
the wise men bowed before the holy babe and presented Him with gold,
frankincense, and myrrh. We should g ive gifts in the same spirit as
the wise men."
Santa then reached in his bag and pulled out a CANDY CANE and hung it
on the tree. Teach the Children that the candy cane represents the
shepherd's crook. The crook on the shepherd's staff helps bring back
strayed sheep from the flock. The candy cane is the symbol that we
our brother's keeper.
He reached in again and pulled out an ANGEL. Teach the Children that
it was the angels that heralded in the glorious news of the Savior's
birth. The angels sang 'Glory to God in the highest, on earth, peace
and good will.'
Suddenly I heard a soft twinkling sound, and from his bag he pulled
out a BELL. Teach the Children that as the lost sheep are found by
the sound of a bell, it should bring people to the fold. The bell
symbolizes guidance and return.
Santa looked at the tree and was pleased. He looked back at me and I
saw the twinkle was back in his eyes. He said , "Remember, teach the
Children the true meaning of Christmas, and not to put me in the
center, for I am but a humble servant of the One who is, and I bow
down and worship Him, our Lord, our God."
TV's EWTN website Advent page for Christmas lists more of the Christmas symbols explanations.
Multi-cultural Winter Holiday Links
I hope to learn, myself, more about the observances of those outside my education and experience, since we are all Citizens of the Universe. These links have been helping me, and I will develop them as I can and hope you will wish to gain appreciation for the many wonderful ways we mark the Winter Holidays!
A Start here:
Chanuka
In my childhood memory, Catholic and Congregational and few other Protestant religions were part of the devotions and fun, and the Judaic was an exciting mystery, hinted at, but not taught.
It was Post WW2 and we idolized Jewish people for their sufferings and valiant spirit, and studied the Holocaust, but had little knowledge of their devotions and traditions, other than our Bible study reported from ancient days. I think I saw a yarmulka one time in all my childhood. So I am happy to share these now, and learn more each year, with gratitude for the kindness of Jewish friends and internet study sites.
Everything Jewish for those, like me, who know too little!
The Story of Chanukka
From Judaism 101:
Chanukka, to some, is the holiday that is a contradiction in terms. In America, since it falls near the Christian Christmas Holiday, it has come to be celebrated in similar style. But the Feast of Chanukka commemorates the miracle surrounding the re-consecration of the Temple, after a successful rebellion against pressures to squelch Judaism and assimilate the Jewish religion and practices to conform the other dominant peoples and practices of the times: these were unscrupulous descendants of the tolerant Alexander the Great, who, unlike him, persecuted and massacred Jews and defiled the Temple.
All things surrounding the Temple , its use and rituals, were very strict and could not be changed or omitted. Chanukka is called the "Feast of Lights" because the Jewish political and religious (led by the family of Juda Maccabees)that overthrew its anti-semitic oppressors (led by Antiochus), wished to celebrate and re-consecrate the Temple, which required a Sacred Festival of many days, with the Menorah burning, without interruption, night and day, throughout the festival celebration. Alas! The desecrations of the Temple had destroyed or defiled much of the sacred oil for burning the Menorah lights - only one day's supply of acceptable oil was left, and it would be eight days before new sacred oil could be properly and acceptably prepared, to keep the Menorah burning bright!
Nevertheless, by some miracle, the one day's supply of oil burned steadily for eight days, till the new oil was ready! And so the special observance of the miracle associated with the re-consecration of the Temple was appointed, and called Chanukkah, a name that refers to the Menorah, or Candelabrum, the central icon of the feast.
The Menorah contains the symbolic eight candles, one for each day the oil burned so miraculously, and ninth candle, the shamus or working candle, used to light the others, one for each day of the feast.
The Dreidle game, so popular at Chanukkah is traditionally played at that feast because it is said that it was first played to fool the persecutors, disguising prayer and study groups for groups of idle gamers, spinning a top.
It is fun and easy and not too boring, especially for modern and open-minded non-Jews, like me,
hoping to take the opportunity at Chanukkah to learn something worthwhile and new.
Play the Dreidel Game online !
1.Chanuka.com
An easy overall scan of History and Merchandise and rituals surrounding Chanuka, good for those who know nothing about it, and I wanted more.
But visit it for the laser -cut art quality paper lace
dreidel by artists
Melanie and Harry Dankowicz, each one signed and numbered. A really beautiful thing, whatever your religious beliefs and observance.
2. Chanuka for Children
Fun childrens games of the season; links and learning and merchandise.
My site fun page contains a dreidel crafting project to print and assemble. Happy Chanuka
3.
Ideas Shop - Made in Israel
...really beautiful top quality sales offerings of Dreidels and Menorahs
4. Ready for more studious interest? Judaism 101 offers a great place to start. Reliable information in general terms, with links for
further study.
First of Judaic/multicultural stories at this page, from one at "Beliefnet.com"
The Christmas Menorah
A small town supports a Jewish neighbor when her family faces prejudice during Hanukkah.
By Joan Wester Anderson
During the wee hours of Sunday morning, December 8, 1996, after the third night of Hanukkah, someone took a baseball bat and broke the front window of a house on the street with a lighted menorah in the window, and the criminals reached through the shattered glass and smashed the menorah.
The menorah is used to celebrate the eight-day Jewish Festival of Lights, also known as Hanukkah, which occurs around the same time as Christmas. As a nativity scene reminds Christians of their heritage and faith, so does a menorah for Jews.
The woman who lived in the vandalized house was no stranger to prejudice. As a child, she had come with her mother, a Holocaust survivor, and her father, to the United States to escape persecution in the Soviet Union. Now, as she viewed the smashed menorah, the familiar fear returned.
Lisa Keeling, a young mother who lived down the street, heard about the incident on returning from mass with her family. She was appalled. Newtown has about fifteen hundred families, representing many cultures and religions. Lisa had never heard of anyone being singled out because of faith or ethnicity. How would she feel if someone desecrated a crèche on her lawn she wondered. Unless everyone were free to practice religious beliefs, no one could be free. Lisa had an idea. She said to her husband, "I'd like to put a menorah in our front window so that family will know they are not going through this alone. If the vandals come back, they'll have to target us, too. What do you think?
Lisa's husband didn't hesitate. "Go for it," he said.
Lisa soon ran into another neighbor, Margie Alexander, who had been as horrified as Lisa when she heard the news and was also eager to act.
Margie started driving from store to store, looking for menorahs, with Lisa calling all the likely sources and relaying the information to Margie on her car phone. Word got around, and several Christian neighbors dropped by, asking where to purchase a menorah. Margie and Lisa bought up all they could and distributed them just before sundown-time to light the next candle.
Then Lisa took down the Christmas lights in one of her windows and put the menorah there, all by itself. "I didn't want there to be any doubt about the statement we were making," she recalls.
That night, when the Jewish woman turned onto her street, she stopped in amazement. Greeting her was a sea of orange menorah lights, shining in silent solidarity from the windows of all eighteen Christian households on her block. Blinking back tears, she went home, replaced the broken bulbs in her own menorah and put it back in the window.
Margie and Lisa are hanging menorahs again this Christmas. "it's become the most cherished part of my Christmas," Margie says, "and it's taught me a wonderful lesson: Just one little step in the right direction can make life better for everyone."
and another, also from "Beliefnet.com" which, in turn found it at "Chicken Soup for the Soul" ~
'It Should Once Again See Light'
A menorah, hidden from the Nazis and miraculously unearthed after more than 50 years, finds its true home.
By Blair P. Grubb, M.D.
Several years ago, a physician from southern France contacted me. His granddaughter had taken ill with a disease that baffled the physicians there. He called after reading several of my articles on disorders of the autonomic nervous system. His granddaughter's symptoms seemed to match those I had described, and he asked me if I could help. I readily agreed, and for many months, I collaborated with the child's French physicians by telephone and by fax, directing their diagnostic testing. At last we came to a diagnosis, and I prescribed a course of therapy. During the next several weeks, the child made a seemingly miraculous recovery. Her grandparents expressed their heartfelt thanks and told me to let them know should I ever come to France.
In the summer of 1996, I was invited to speak at a large international scientific meeting that was held in Nice, France. I sent word to the physician I had helped years before. Upon my arrival at the hotel, I received a message to contact him. I called him, and we arranged a night to meet for dinner.
On the appointed day, we met and then drove north to his home in the beautiful southern French countryside. It was humbling to learn his home was older than the United States. During the drive he told me that his wife had metastatic breast cancer and was not well, but she insisted upon meeting me. When introduced to her, I saw that despite her severe illness, she was still a beautiful woman with a noble bearing.
I was thereafter treated to one of the most wonderful meals I have ever eaten, complemented by the most exquisite of wines. After dinner, we sat in a seventeenth-century salon, sipping cognac and chatting. Our conversation must have seemed odd to the young man and woman who served us because it came out in a free-flowing mixture of English, French and Spanish. After a time the woman asked, "My husband tells me you are Jewish, no?"
"Yes," I said, "I am a Jew."
They asked me to tell them about Judaism, especially the holidays.
I did my best to explain and was astounded by how little they knew of Judaism. She seemed to be particularly interested in Hanukkah.
Once I had finished answering her questions, she suddenly looked me in the eye and said, "I have something I want to give to you." She disappeared and returned several moments later with a package wrapped in cloth. She sat, her tired eyes looking into mine, and she began to speak slowly.
"When I was a little girl of eight years, during the Second World War, the authorities came to our village to round up all the Jews. My best friend at that time was a girl of my age named Jeanette. One morning when I came to play, I saw her family being forced at gunpoint into a truck. I ran home and told my mother what had happened and asked where Jeanette was going. 'Don't worry,' she said, 'Jeanette will be back soon.' I ran back to Jeanette's house only to find that she was gone and that the other villagers were looting her home of valuables, except for the Judaic items, which were thrown into the street.
"As I approached, I saw an item from her house lying in the dirt. I picked it up and recognized it as an object that Jeanette and her family would light around Christmas time. In my little girl's mind I said, 'I will take this home and keep it for Jeanette until she comes back,' but she and her family never returned."
She paused and took a slow sip of brandy. "Since that time I have kept it. I hid it from my parents and didn't tell a soul of its existence. Indeed, over the last fifty years the only person who knew of it was my husband. When I found out what really happened to the Jews, and how many of the people I knew had collaborated with the Nazis, I could not bear to look at it. Yet I kept it, hidden, waiting for something, although I wasn't sure what. Now I know what I was waiting for. It was you, a Jew, who helped cure our granddaughter, and it is to you I entrust this."
Her trembling hands set the package on my lap. I slowly unwrapped the cloth from around it. Inside was a menorah, but one unlike any I had seen before. Made of solid brass, it had eight cups for holding oil and wicks and a ninth cup centered above the others. It had a ring attached to the top, and the woman mentioned that she remembered that Jeanette's family would hang it in the hallway of their home. It looked quite old to me; later, several people told me that it is probably at least one hundred years old. As I held it and thought about what it represented, I began to cry. All I could manage to say was a garbled "merci." As I left, her last words to me were "Il faudra voir la lumière encore une fois"--it should once again see light.
I later learned that she died less than one month after our meeting. This Hanukkah, the menorah will once again see light. And as I and my family light it, we will say a special prayer in honor of those whose memories it represents. We will not let its lights go out again.
Copyright © 2006 Beliefnet, Inc.
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Diwali
People of India, Hindu, and Jaine and others celebrate this Festival of lights. In fact the word means "Row of Lights".
Depending on the era and the area of celebration, it marks the the last Harvest, provision for winter months, nirvana of heroes and celebrates Light in the darker months, like most of the Winter Holidays cross-culturally.
Wikipedia's comprehensive description of Diwali is a very nice one,
and includes images from olden days and modern times that celebrate the six-day feast.
Legends of Diwali
Diwali Stories
Enjoying even some from these links will enlighten you as the lights brighten the dark, about this fitting Winter Holiday !
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Kwanzaa
Kwanzaa was established in 1966 in the midst of the Black Freedom Movement...in normal sociological response, as were most major holidays celebrated in the world today. To non -africans, it sounds a little bit like Thankgiving and Christmas combined, and has grown in delight and acceptance each year! Less than forty years later, most people know and respond to Happy Kwanzaa in America...overdue, and nice to see!
1.The official Kwanzaa site
listed here, is comprehensive and fun!
2.Melanet.com
another black experience site offers Kwanzaa data and links, as well.
3.
Kwanzaa on the Net
also informative and fun...colorful homepage!
A Classic Poem of God, Peace & Brotherhood for Christmas:
The Little Black Boy
by William Blake.
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereaved of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And, pointed to the east, began to say:
"Look on the rising sun: there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away,
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
"And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love
And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
"For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,
Saying, 'Come out from the grove, my love and care
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice',"
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy
I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.
This poem is so famous, it's required reading in school, and there are oceans of literary comment about it.
I am white, and the only inter-racial people I knew had money and property, and did not suffer, but there were sensitive places we respected, lovingly, and did not understand. This poem, taught school one day, gave me my first glimpse of understanding of the sensitivities of inter-racial issues...the realization that our daily courage cares for quite a bit, protecting the best soul in all of us - our hope of salvation.
May we all continue to grow in good work and love, in every way, in the coming new year and always! ~ elle
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Ramadan
I was lucky to earn a spot on the helping crew with American Red Cross during ODS, and as part of our training, learned my first real Middle-Eastern Cultural information.
Westerners and Americans count Middle-Eastern/Americans as current friends and associates, and know there are many who love us and wish us well, who contribute in work and love and money, and so , here, I hope to convey the idea that interest and understanding of the Middle East and its ways is a good idea, not EVEN THOUGH we are war, but ESPECIALLY because we are at war and must resolve it well to manage successfully in the future, as our own God and country have always taught.
1.Ramadan on the Net
...a fine and easy startspot.
2.Children's Activities and Fun for Ramadan
3.
IslamiCity
seems good for current data and upscale links and interest
I hope to search and find more in the coming days, and you are surely invited to send helpful links and comment.
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MEMORIES OF A SPECIAL CHRISTMAS STAR
Written in 2002, this little true story recalls earlier days:
Christmas at our childhood home, in the 50's and 60's was luminous ! In good times or bad, always filled with love and energy, church and community, and special family experience. Mother's eleven siblings, Father's seven...family visits took all twelve days!
Our
parents were young, bright, beautiful and creative, and each year, we got busy, happily sharing everything that pleased, to make Christmas special.
I especially loved outings to the family homestead, the "Little Whitehouse" for some of
Grandpa's Running Pine for garlands, but the running pine was placed on the endangered list, that far back, and so we stopped the 'Currier & Ives'- type expeditions. We missed the event: such fun, to gather up the long vines, entwine them, till they created the evergreen
fullness in a garland, and hang them over the mantles and anywhere else that felt grand to find some on Christmas morning!
Fortunately fun begats fun! We were soon diverted with equal delight, to Developing the Art of The Purchase of
the Perfect Christmas Tree and cultivating the mystified devotion to its decoration, care and feeding.
Electric light shows on the outside of the home were an innovation, in those days, and thrilled us, as they do now! With the house outlined in lights and two lighted candlesticks of molded plastic, by the front door, Winter lost its power to freeze, entirely! And that is a thing to say: our New England winters could be discouraging, at times, with cold, ice, snow and storms.
But not with our parents! Holiday-glowing, until we knew we should and could do something special - and so "The Star"!
Commemorating The Star of Bethlehem, this would be a special star...if we could do it right, only the Original Star of Bethlehem could be better!
And so began the talk and planning sessions at the kitchen table and sketches and plans for the project, so that our Star might dazzle and yet be strong enough to endure, outdoors, through wind and cold.
With all of us
contributing, and encouraged to contribute, our ideas and wishes and thoughts, planning was soon followed by some shopping for supplies, and then some serious evenings' work.
The entire family, and a very special "Angel", a devoted friend of many gifts, gathered in the kitchen to assist and kibitz, as the work began...singing the holiday songs in three languages throughout! I think the only thing I hated from those days, was the cold glare from that flourescent kitchen ceiling fixture, but dark comes early in the winter, and I remember tuning out the insult of such light, and my Father giving me "the look" that said, sympathetically : "I know it's awful, but they'll get there with it, and we can rise above it, for this, easily!" He was, of course, right!
And so, "to it"!
In Connecticut's cold and windy winters, this Star would do just fine
with a sturdy wood backbone, so Angel and our Father went to work at that! We might help measure and mark the wood, with the funny, flat pencil.
Then a faceted, three-dimensional skeleton for the contours of the star, created with
Wooden lath and dowelling, and supports for endurance at every angle, and weak space.
Then Mother entered, and we three children, with boxes of aluminum foil, unrolling and crimping sheets of the shiny stuff, to create
"billions and billions" of facets in them, when partly smoothed out. Such fun to wiggle the faceted sheets, this way and that, and pick up their sparkly fun! There were not yet many things that did so. We were in no hurry to be done!
Such fun to mash the foil into balls,
but not too hard, now! A perfect task for children our age! The crimped, smoothed foil was then stapled to the frame to fill out the contours created by the skeleton. We jumped back and forth, between hushed devotion to the task, and just plain old-fashioned glee! Our star was already looking amazing!
Finally, the bulbless strings of lights were fashioned along each edge, height, width and depth of each point, and, varying the colors each year, a four-inch, heavy-duty outdoor bulb was fastened
in each socket. The mood getting serious now.... Then, with us keeping watch for safety and steady footing, Angel and our Father climbed to the porch roof, via the upstairs hall window, fastening our Star to the top front of our home, with "guy wires"
of a sort, so that even the strongest winds would not disturb it. Then back indoors through the window, our Father making sure we gathered around him attentively. He would demonstrate the safe and strong method for creating the electrical connections. Our parents had a way of making things seem effortless in their youth, but it was a lot of work, and the concepts brave for the times. It would be our job to light the star each sundown and extinguish it in the morning, so the extra instruction with the wiring was important.  But now the moment... big eyes! no noise! no breathing! ... the 'power-on' , as the rest of us flew to the front yard .... ...3,2,1.....
TaaaaDaaaa!!!!!!!
Fiat Lux!!!!!
Let there be Light!!!!
Completed, the star was more than three feet high, not including its supports, and thirty feet up on our rooftop and lit, it dazzled the entire neighborhood!
Word spread, even then, about neat lightshows, and People came from miles around to see the spectacle, and, of course we were gleeful over both the star and the excitement it created at Wintertime!
A real Christmas Star!
And each year, for many years after, the Star was brought out from careful storage, the foil refreshed as needed, variations in the color scheme of the lightbulbs worked out and, one year, we even gave it the amazing new snowspray stuff!
We loved it, and never lost interest in it, even when we were no longer "little ones" and mostly into things that were "cool"... We loved it so much none of us will remember how and when it disappeared from our lives! And remembering our Very Special Christmas Star still creates the glow that comes from within, and the desire to share its message of warmth and light in cold, dark places, just as far and as well as it will go!
Author's note: year's later, I wondered if the Foil covered Star was precognitive... a precursor.....soon after the Star disappeared, my Father's hands were fashioning the gold foil that wrapped the Lunar Landing Module...crinkled foil on a much fancier star!...neat coincidence, no? Happy Holiday! Whoever you are, wherever you are, you surely do have a special light to share, as well...especially when you think otherwise! May it glow for you, forever!
If you enjoyed the story, please tell me! Elle Fagan
esfagan@ellefagan.com
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