by Anna Gottlieb

basket2I was charmed, touched, surprised and gladdened by the spectacle in the streets. There were queens and kings and clowns and gypsies, hobos and princes, bakers and brides. There were boys and girls and men and women, balloons and music and candy and fruit. And good cheer, high spirits, laughter, broad smiles. In kitchens and living rooms, on front stoops and backyard patios - everywhere were sounds of celebration.

Purim, and I was a part of it. Delivering mishloach manot food gifts on a sunlit afternoon.

"What a wonderful idea," I'd said when first my son and daughter informed me of this custom to present gifts of fruit and sweets.

"On Purim, Ma, Jewish children dress in funny clothes and give packages of candy and stuff," my daughter explained.

"And people might bring their mishloach manot to our door. But that's not what counts. What matters is the giving. That's the real mitzva," she said.

I was touched by her words and proud of the ease with which she and her brother understood to accept and fit into this Jewish way of life.

In the days preceding Purim, both my daughter and son discussed the Megillah with me. They were thrilled when we accepted an invitation to attend a Purim dinner at a teacher's home. They made hamantashen with their maternal grandparents. They prepared for a carnival in school.

They helped wrap the mishloach manot packages. And they included me, encouraged and taught me, enabling me to understand the Purim concept.

I was charmed, touched, surprised and gladdened by Purim overflowing in the streets, and that I was a participant in this joy.

 
From 'Between the Lines' by Anna Gottleib, published by Bristol, Rhein and Englander.