One of the residents at a facility I visit is always happy to see me. "I love you, I love you," she has told me. She met me when I was her brother's hospice chaplain in the the same facility. I am grateful that she doesn't connect me with her loss or see me as a reminder of her sorrow.
Initially she recognized me by my kipah, now she recognizes me as me. Whenever she sees me, she gives me the appropriate Jewish greeting (or at least the Jewish greeting she knows.) "Happy Hanukah," she says. "Happy Hanukah." I thank her.
I saw her last week, just before Rosh HaShanah. She wished me a "Happy Hanukah."
I couldn't help noticing that the local Chabad has their hanukiya fully lit for their New Year observances. Perhaps she's right: it's always hanukah somewhere.
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