May your candles burn steady, your blessings come slowly, and your guests leave just before you wish they would.
Fresh today · Monday, 29 June
New Wishes
A handful of wishes pulled from the cabinet this morning. Pick one up — copy, save it to your pinboard, or send it on.
Hanukkah sameach — may the holiday's quiet courage settle into the corners of your year ahead.
Wishing you the kind of Hanukkah where the kids actually want to sing Maoz Tzur with you.
May the lights in your window join thousands of others — a constellation of stubborn hope across the city.
Eight nights of doughnuts is medically inadvisable and spiritually correct. Enjoy every one of them.
May this Hanukkah feel less like a checklist and more like a slow, golden exhale.
↑ pick one up
Browse by occasion
What are we writing today?
Cabinets sorted by occasion. Open one — pages are arranged by warmth, not algorithm.
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- Christian
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- Congratulation
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- Romantic
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- Thanksgiving
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- Women's Day
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- Valentine's Day
- Halloween
- Veterans Day
More from today
Wishing your home the warmth of melted wax, the sound of children counting candles, and arguments only about latke recipes.
May the miracle that began in a desecrated temple light something small and sacred in your own kitchen.
Chag urim sameach — festival of lights, festival of leftovers, festival of asking your aunt for the brisket recipe again.
May the menorah grow brighter each night while the world outside, somehow, grows a little kinder too.
Wishing you eight days of presence — phones down, candles up, voices around the table actually heard.
May your dreidel spin true, your gelt last past the second night, and your stories grow only slightly more exaggerated.
Hanukkah blessings on you — the loud kind, the quiet kind, and the kind that arrive without announcement.
May the oil of your devotion last longer than it should, the way it did once, in a temple far away.
Wishing you a chag that smells like onions, sounds like blessings, and feels like every Hanukkah you ever loved.
May the candles teach what they always teach — that light is added, never divided, never diminished by sharing.
Eight nights to remember that small acts of faith have lit our way for more than two thousand years.
Wishing you the joy of lighting the shamash first, and the patience to let it kindle the rest in order.
May your home this Hanukkah be loud with songs, sticky with sufganiyot, and bright enough to see from the street.
Chag sameach — may the festival's old stubborn light find new corners of your life to illuminate.
Wishing you a Hanukkah measured in candles, not calendars, and in blessings, not bargains.
May the eighth night arrive too soon, leaving you grateful, full, and already counting toward next year.
Wishing your family a Hanukkah of soft light, slow evenings, and stories told twice because they're worth it.
May the menorah in your window be answered by menorahs in windows across the city.
Chag sameach — eight nights of small miracles disguised as ordinary moments at the kitchen table.