The glass vials in my Shabbos candlesticks are waxy, begging me to be a better homemaker, the type of woman who runs them weekly in the dishwasher or soaks them in a magical solution every Motzei Shabbos. The silver Shabbos candlesticks are waxy too, and also not often very silver, as they too beckon for more attention and better care.
But I’m busy, and the wax stays there and builds, mocking me to be like the Jewish women with their mirror-like Shabbos candlesticks reflecting the illusion that they have everything all together all at once, always.
Some weeks I carve time to scrub and polish my candlesticks, and while the tarnish manages to more or less disappear, the wax does not. I don’t have a mesorah of how to remove wax from Shabbos candlesticks, and I can’t be bothered to find out how. Shabbos is sacred to me, but in the scheme of things, with all the managing and juggling I do in a day, removing the wax from waxy candlesticks is not.
So I will be that woman who lets her candlesticks go tarnished and waxy, as a reminder of all the things I am doing right.
