As a little girl, I considered the elderly couple next door … mysterious.
When I rode my bicycle up and down the driveway singing, I’d sometimes see her peering at me through a side window. She never bought the imaginary ice cream I churned from my tires when my bike sat upside down (can’t see why, it was delicious). So when a basketball flew over the fence into her back yard, I felt intimidated. I’d climb that chain link real fast, hop over, grab the wayward orange sphere and scoot back to safety unnoticed.
On this 8th day of Hanukkah, I fondly remember my late Jewish neighbors, Mr. & Mrs. Goodman. They didn’t put up Christmas lights and now I understand why. Those candles I saw in their front window those cold, snowy December nights when I was out shoveling snow have special significance now.
Thank you for the cookies, Mrs. Goodman.
I remember being invited inside your Detroit home one summer day. The plastic slipcovers that protected your living room sofa were much different than at my house. They made a crinkling sound when I sat down. I certainly didn’t want to mess anything up, so was on my best behavior.
Mysterious as you seemed fifty years ago, if I could interview you now, I bet you’d unfold a world to me.
Perhaps there was a tattoo on your forearm that escaped my childhood eyes. Regardless, you had stories I never heard.
I appreciate you both for honoring your faith in a visible way. Even if I didn’t understand then, I do now.
Happy Hanukkah, Mrs. Goodman! ♥
This concludes my eight day Hanukkah reflection series. I hope you have enjoyed it and learned something new about the Hebrew roots of the Christian faith. It was my joy to prepare these! Special thanks to my guest authors, Gail Golden, Theresa Miles and Dean Spitzer for writing posts on short notice.