Because there IS life outside of this bizarre job hunt

I haven't heard anything. They seemed busy, so I'm not expecting anything until next week. I don't know if I'm just trying to prepare myself for the worst, but I just don't think I'm going to get it. All his questions were about my web experience--which is old and not up to speed. As a company they are heading in a more virtual/digital direction. Sigh.

Whatever.

This weekend should be fun. Jrex and I are taking the dog and heading up the coast. We're going to taste our way up the Anderson Valley (3 vineyards), then spend the night in a motel near Ft. Bragg (north of Mendocino). If we're not suffering from alcohol poisoning by that point, we might go to a micro-brewery for dinner. Then Sunday, we'll hike along the bluffs and explore state parks and the town of Mendocino. Easter sunrise along the ocean sounds lovely. We'll do our own Easter service of some sort.

I'm going to the Good Friday service tonight at my local church. I do love Holy Week, as this time of year is called. It's rich in symbolism, relationships, and memories. I like the quiet and dark of Good Friday. Remembering that there can be profound meaning in suffering and hope in the midst of the darkest of times. A few years ago, I prayed for months that God would make the cross meaningful for me. Having grown up in a Christian home, I'd always heard about Jesus dying for me, blah, blah, blah. It had become meaningless. Since that prayer, I now cry every time I think about Jesus and his death. It's been transformed into a personal and profound act.

The fact that God (the Father) had to say "no" when Jesus begged that the cup of suffering/forsakeness pass from him. The pain that must have caused the King of the Universe--to say no to his perfect child. How could he be strong enough to do that? That Jesus experienced the most profound aloneness--being cut off from his beloved Father--so that I never have to be. The amazing truth that the joy set before him that allowed him to endure the cross and scorn it's shame was ME?! Was each person who would be able to know love, peace, joy and hope in a very dark world.

Sometimes candles seem small and old-fashioned amidst all our electronic brightness. When the Bible calls Jesus the light of the world, I used to think that meant he was like the sun: bright, obvious and overwhelming. I think now that it's more like a candle. The darkness tries to overwhelm the light, we easily overlook it in its humble state, we let it sit and gather dust in the corner and wonder why the room is so cold and lonely. Yet, in a dark room, that slender light fills the space with warmth and hope. It's been too easy for me to keep rushing along and forget to light that candle. To take time to just sit and connect with my source for peace and joy. I'm hoping this weekend is a time to do that.

May your candle burn brightly in the coming year.