There is so much to like about the festival of Chanukah (Hanukkah). But this year, in particular, there is also so much to feel. The war in Israel is so prevalent in all of our minds and souls. This Chanukah, my mind is with the entire Jewish nation, especially those in Israel and on the firing line. My soul, on the other hand, is alight with emotion.

The story of Chanukah has never felt more relevant. It’s a story of bold, innner strength — the kind that can be felt and not seen, blind faith and absolute courage. But it’s also a story of surrender — the knowledge that there’s a higher power at play, and the reality that while so much feels out of our control, there still remains so much that is. There are still so many ways, big and small, that we can affect change.

So this Chanukah, I’m choosing to feel it all. The raw emotion, the inner strength and the blind faith.

And I’m reminding myself again that there’s a G-d who allowed this war to happen, a G-d who is standing with every soldier on every firing line, and every mother without her child.

It’s the same G-d who created miracles at the Red Sea, bringing the Jewish people from slavery to redemption so many years ago, and the same G-d who brought salvation after the Holocaust, when the unimaginable took place, and we vowed never again.

I’m choosing to surrender to a G-d I don’t understand. I’m surrendering to His will, and I’m reminding myself that this war will end.

I’m allowing the emotion that has swept across the world wash over me, and as I reflect, I’m remaining firm in my faith.

This Chanukah, I’m honouring those who are suffering the most. I’m standing in solidarity with my people, and I’m refusing to back down in the face of terror.

I’m trying to add light in my own little way, to bring about whatever small change I can, even when the odds are against me — against us.

And I’m not the only one. Together we stand, and together we will remain.

When I light the Menorah tonight, with my husband by my side, I’ll be praying for peace — everlasting and eternal.

And as the wick takes shape and strives upwards, I know the cry of the Jewish people will be soaring heavenward too, knocking on heaven’s doors and demanding redemption.

Each night, as we add a new candle, I’ll remind myself again that it is light that dispels darkness, and when light is added, darkness loses its power. Light will always win.

I’ll remember my own inner strength and the blind faith I’m trying so hard to attain, and I’ll surrender all over again to the knowledge that each and every one of us holds so much more power than we believe we do.

May it be a Chanukah of pure, blinding light.