On the Eighth Night of Chanukah...Tradition!

I can't believe eight nights have already come and gone! After Sunday's party, I had two days off from teaching my preschool class and took that time to get a bunch of errands done, some cooking, some rest and relaxation, and of course some enjoyment of my menorah increasingly burning brighter with each night's added candle.
As a child growing up in a Reform home, living in towns that ranged from having no Jewish population to having a relatively fair amount, I most closely associated Chanukah with, well, presents. This is a sentiment shared among many of my peers as well as many children today. Partly, I think it was difficult living in a culture that predominantly celebrated Xmas. It was impossible not to hear about and see the trees and decorations and piles upon piles of neatly wrapped gifts. I know there was many a year I wished I had a dead tree in my living room decorated with fancy glass balls I would inevitably break and a mismatched sock hanging from our fireplace filled with candy I didn't even like. One year I even subtly suggested the initiation of a new tradition: a magical midnight visit from Judah the Maccabee. He would magically appear (aka: get on this one, Mom and Dad) and fill large dreidle-shaped containers with goodies for my sister and me. The idea never caught on. We never had a tree or even a Chanukah bush. Still, Chanukah was a holiday filled with extravagance in my home. I imagine my parents felt the pressure of raising two Jewish children to feel both proud of our heritage but not alienated because of it. I definitely think the piles of presents kept me from having too much time to feel sad about not having a Santa or the associated discomfort of awkwardly sitting on this old guy's lap while some underpaid photographer attempted to get me to smile. More than that, I value that my parents didn't get a tree or stocking for us. I appreciate that we did light the menorah each year and sing the brachas (blessings) and festive songs. I love that somewhere in there, aside from torn wrapping paper and ripped ribbon and bows, the idea of being somewhat different this time of year did not leave me feeling a want for assimilation, but rather a desire for greater immersion into my faith and Jewish practice.
This Chanukah's highlight was realizing that living in a city with a very small Jewish population comes with blessings as well as the challenges. The true gift of Chanukah is that in this challenge of living in a city where I can't just go to the grocery store to pick up an extra box of Chanukah candles for my menorah like I could in Massachusetts and New York, I do feel a stronger connection to my Jewish community than I ever did living amongst larger populations. There is a sense of familiarity and comfort that comes from sharing a game a Dreidle Trivia with women of all ages. There is a feeling of joy that comes from watching kids and kids-at-heart light a giant menorah made of Legos. And there is a great deal of honor in sharing traditions that are thousands of years old with children just a few years old--both Jewish and of other faiths or backgrounds.
Do I remember every present I unwrapped at Chanukah time as a child? No, not exactly. I remember (and hold on dearly) to a few of the very special ones, and more than that, hold on to the gift that is being born Jewish. It is a gift that I can continue to hold on dearly to and nourish with education, community, and the gifts of giving that education to the younger generation.
Tomorrow night I will be sharing my favorite Chanukah traditions with some friends. Chanukah will be over, but why not stretch out the celebration for one more night!