Today, I found myself surrounded by shlachmonos- Purim gift baskets- in every shape, size and colour imaginable. Some were simple and elegant; others were extravagant. Looking at the selection of designs, I began to feel overwhelmed. How on earth was I going to choose one? And who would I send it to? How would I afford it? Could I manage alone? What if I couldn’t deliver it on Purim: what then?

And as I stood there, worrying about the whole Purim dilemma, I suddenly remembered something I wrote yesterday about simchos. About gratefulness. About blessings. Sometimes, we’re so busy with our problems, that we forget to count our blessings. Then I thought about Purim last year, when my family weren’t observant. There were no shlachmonos. No cards. The seuda was meagre at best. And going to shul on the day was unthinkable!

This year, I have a family to celebrate with. I have a time, and a place;  means and ways. I glanced at the shiny cellophane and the colourful sweets, and this time, I wasn’t thinking of the price, of the difficulties. I was thinking of how good it is, to be able to celebrate Purim with those I love.


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