On becoming Jewish in a jiffy.

Tonight, as we celebrate the first night of Hanukkah, I have a confession to make.  
I'm Jewish.
Well, I am!
Or I was.
Once...


17 years ago, Hanukkah saved me.
It saved me from awkwardness.
It saved me from explanation.
It saved me from judgment and
most of all it saved me from pity.

As soon as the Thanksgiving dinner had been cleared off the table the questions started:
"Aren't you excited for Christmas?"
"Aren't you going home to Florida?"
"Who are you spending Christmas with?"
"Are you suurre you're not carrying twins? You're getting awfully big!"

And as soon as I told them that I was doing nothing, nowhere with no-one you could see the well meaning (but completely misguided) gleam in their eye that could only mean one thing: They were going to "adopt" me. They were going to take this young, dumb, pregnant girl home and make her one of the family.

The out pouring of invitations to holiday parties and Christmas Eve family dinners was nice, but it was also overwhelming. I didn't want to spend my Holidays with people I hardly knew. I didn't want to spend my holidays doing anything! I just wanted to work, come home, sleep and await January's reprieve from all things Christmas.

One night in Early December as I got yet another grilling on my would-be Christmas plans, I just blurted it out: "Oh, I don't celebrate Christmas. I'm Jewish." And just like that: a Hanukkah miracle!! The invitation was retracted. Apparently, a declaration so dramatic as being Jewish meant I no longer needed their charity or their pity or their well meaning (but completely misguided) attempts at adopting me for the holidays. The thing about northern Utah is that the Jewish population is all but non-existent. Thankfully, there was no one there to call me out or test me on my actual Jewishness. For all intents and purposes I was free!

And so, I spent my very first Christmas Eve alone.
And it was okay. I was okay.

So now, Hanukkah is one of my soft spots. And why shouldn't it be? It is the celebration of miracles.
Thousands of years ago Jews had only enough oil to burn for one day and yet it burned for 8.
Seventeen years ago I needed a little "oil" for my soul. Just enough to burn through the holidays and yet it still burns, even today.