It’s the annual post-Sukkos ritual. We dismantle our sukkahs, put away the machzorim and decorations, and try somehow to salvage our precious esrogim – whether by boiling them to make esrog jelly, turning them into pincushions stuck with fresh cloves for havdala, or cutting them up to make esrog liqueur (I know, I’ve tried them all). And then, the Yamim Nora’im are truly over and we go back to “business as usual.”

Too often, the tremendous spiritual highs that we reached over Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur start to quickly wane and dissipate, as we re-immerse ourselves into the day-to-day challenge

Childhood can be rough. Even the most uneventful childhood is fraught with an assortment of worries and fears; some are benign and even seem silly – consider the child who pales at the sound of a noisy blender or is afraid to sleep without his blankie – while others are based on reality, such as dealing with the illness of a beloved relative. But a child that experiences a trauma or some other hardship will face a set of challenges that will transform him forever. Such a child will not remain a child for long.

A pair of books has recently

On Chanuka, we contemplate the nature of miracles. We see how, if Hashem so desires, the weak can prevail against all odds. The days of Chanuka are considered yemei ratzon, a time of Divine favor. It is also a time for exchanging gifts. The best gifts are usually surprises, and good ones take a lot of planning.

Well, 21 years ago, I was the astonished recipient of a series of incredible Chanuka gifts, involving a great deal of advance planning by the Ribono Shel Olam and a good bit of miraculous intervention on His part. This is my pirsum nissah.

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