Marking the week.
Dec. 11th, 2020 08:56 pmThirty-six weeks.
Seventy-two candles.
Nine months ago, I bought the largest box of Shabbat candles I could find, thinking perhaps if I had any left over, I could bring them to a future family dinner because I wouldn't have need of them. It wasn't a terrible thing, to do this myself. I had bread and wine, I could wash my hands, say the blessings, think about the meaning of having a day of rest. It wouldn't be so hard to do it myself for a while.
Two weeks ago, I bought a fresh, seventy-two count box of candles, and I still hold out hope for this box to have a few pairs left over. It's not as hard as it was, even just a little while ago, to do it myself. Not alone, exactly. But by myself, until I can do it with people again.
Seventy-two candles.
Nine months ago, I bought the largest box of Shabbat candles I could find, thinking perhaps if I had any left over, I could bring them to a future family dinner because I wouldn't have need of them. It wasn't a terrible thing, to do this myself. I had bread and wine, I could wash my hands, say the blessings, think about the meaning of having a day of rest. It wouldn't be so hard to do it myself for a while.
Two weeks ago, I bought a fresh, seventy-two count box of candles, and I still hold out hope for this box to have a few pairs left over. It's not as hard as it was, even just a little while ago, to do it myself. Not alone, exactly. But by myself, until I can do it with people again.
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