We are here today, O Lord, to celebrate the Festival of Chanukah. The time of a miracle. When one day’s flame of light was kept going for eight.

We too have witnessed a miracle. Our own. We have kept our Lamp of Life burning to a length of years not granted to everyone.

At times it was hard. At times easy. At times the light burnt so brightly it shed a glow upon all who came near.

At times an ill-wind blew and made the flame to flicker, but always a protective hand came up to shield it.

If once we took our Lamp too lightly, we now know how precious a gift it is. Not be abused or neglected.

So we ask, O Lord, that for the rest of our days, you grant us the power and the will to tend our Lamp; to keep on doing and not being done for. To keep the flame bright and unclouded so we may share its light with others.

After reading this invocation, I immediately sent the following spiritual message to my grandmother Rose, holder of the Red-Pen-of-Perpetual-Corrections, “You wrote fragment sentences. Lots and lots of fragment sentences!”

I had many heated discussions with her about my tendency to insert an occasional fragment sentence when a short phrase was more appropriate than a grammatically-correct sentence. And now I see, she was a flagrant fragmenter!

Onto the invocation…

My grandmother passed away a month after her 90^th birthday. Her husband, Morris, followed a year later. She lived a healthy life, eating small meals, keeping active with gardening, and housework, and remaining mental astute through reading and writing.

She was 83 years old when she wrote the invocation above where she gave thanks for her “lamp of life burning to a length of years not granted to everyone.” It’s a beautiful turn-of-words, but more lyrical is her desire to “keep the flame bright and unclouded so [she] could share its light with others.”

It’s a selfless statement to want life not just for you, but to help others. The ability and willingness to continuing “doing,” whether one’s life work, hobbies, tending to others, or day-to-day activities is what keeps ones lamp burning bright.

Again, O Lord, we are here to spend an afternoon with our fellow members. We are aware that at this time of life we are privileged to be still sharp of mind and sound of body; that we are able to leave our homes and travel about.

Unfortunately there are those upon whom age has laid a heavy hand. They are not able to get out, but must spend their days within confined walls.

For those unlucky shut-ins we want to offer this prayer:

May they find something in each day to bring them laughter; something to bring them pleasure; something to make them feel less alone; something to make them eager to greet another tomorrow.

O Lord, let them find reason each day to make them glad to be alive.

There are so many definitions for “glad.” There’s delight, gratitude, cheerful willingness, and pleasure. It’s a strange word. Flat and bland. Yet, it’s the word my grandmother Rose chose to associate with life – “glad to be alive.”

She gathered broad statements – “something in each day to bring them laughter,” and “something to make them feel less alone” – and tied them into a bouquet with a ribbon of “glad.”

In sense, Rose tied many incidents together with a ribbon of glad. After my father passed away, when I was nine, my grandparents would visit nearly every Saturday. I was thrilled to see my grandmother because of her ability to see the good in the bad and turn despair into hope.

I had a grim childhood — repressive, unyielding, forbidding, and dark. The bright spot was my grandmother. Seeing her every week, made me glad because she found a way to make me laugh, feel less alone, and most of all, gave me the courage to face another tomorrow, and believe someday everything would be better.

Here we are again, O Lord, to spend a few hours in friendship with our fellow members.

We are none of us without problems, without pains and aches, but we leave them all behind to come here and think of other things and talk of other matters.

Help us, O Lord, to maintain this attitude of balance between our physical needs and our mental needs, so we may continue to lead a hopeful, fulfilling life.

This being the first invocation, I’m sure my grandmother, Rose, agonized over the words, wondering whether her words would invoke introspection or simply be ignored. She put a lot of thought into what she wrote, unlike me who slams out sentences as fast as I can type.

My “attitude of balance” is to get the words down as fast as possible so I can move onto another project. Using a PC, I can easily go back and make changes, correct typos, and move around paragraphs.

Rose, however, used a typewriter. Making changes meant having to cross-out and retype. She had to be thoughtful and deliberate when she wrote. She had to balance the mental need to express herself with the physical aspect of having to type and retype a passage if she had carelessly hit the wrong keys are started typing before she had a complete train-of-thought.

The “attitude of balance,” however, she refers to in this invocation undoubtedly has nothing to do with writing or typing. The balance she juggled was between her writing and the need to be a good wife – keeping the house tidy, making meals, gardening, shopping, and keeping in touch with friends and family.

Rose came from a large family of five sisters and three brothers. Her husband, Morris, had seven sisters. Many lived close by, frequently visiting, and often seeking her support and wise advice. Her writings speak of the challenge of having to stay neutral or watch what she said to keep peace within the family.

Maybe it was this balancing act, which moved her to write about creating equilibrium between ones physical and mental needs.