My Bubbe (grandmother) had a lot of colorful old-world sayings. One of my favorites was her standby when anyone spoke hopefully or optimistically about some future event: “From your mouth to God’s ears.” Once she had added her blessing, I was absolutely certain that everything would turn out well.

Their paths never crossed — they were from different lands, and he died when she was just a baby — but had my Bubbe met Alfred Lord Tennyson, I’m sure she would have had the perfect response to his New Year’s wish:

“Hope
Smiles from the threshold of the year to come,
Whispering ‘it will be happier’ . . .”

– Tennyson, “The Foresters”

I can almost hear my Bubbe now, in her warm, fragrant kitchen, whispering, “From his mouth to God’s ears.” And, while I no longer retain that childish certainty, I still hold out hope that everything will indeed work out for the best. Because she said so.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
12/29/25