Purim isn’t just about costumes.
It’s about how everything looks one way
and is actually another.
It’s about the decree
that felt final.
The fear
that felt real.
The waiting
that felt endless.
And then—
it turned.
Not because it looked like it would.
Not because anyone saw it coming.
Just because that’s how Hashem writes stories.
Hidden.
And Purim isn’t just another year
of dressing up
and reading the Megillah.
It’s not just noise
and celebration.
There’s something deeper in it.
It’s a reminder
that when everything looks sealed,
it isn’t.
That when it feels finished,
it’s not.
Because most of life
doesn’t look like miracles. It looks like stress.
Like carrying something heavy
that no one else really sees.
It looks like waiting for answers.
It looks like praying the results are different this time.
It looks like every day is such an unknown
and waiting for healing.
It looks like hoping something works out
when it really doesn’t look like it will.
It looks like trying again
when you’re tired of trying.
It looks like Haman is winning.
