First up, a bit of business. The blog is now Facebook official! If you’re on Facebook, I’d be thrilled if you’d go like my little page. I’m making the leap to a self-hosted domain soon (hopefully within the next week) so that means my blog address will be changing. Hopefully the transition will be a smooth one and I won’t lose anyone in the switch, but liking Light from the Shadows on Facebook or following me on Twitter will ensure you don’t miss out. I’m also going to stop linking to most posts on my personal Facebook account.
Now that that’s out of the way, let’s shift focus a bit…
Today isn’t any ordinary Friday; it’s Good Friday. A day to remember and dwell on Christ’s sacrifice of love for all humanity. Sometimes I find it hard to focus on the solemnity of the occasion because, well, I already know how the story ends. Everything culminates on Easter morning, and oh! what rejoicing there is on that day. I love the bright hope and victory of Easter! But first the Christ had to suffer and die. The darkness before the dawn. Tonight we will go to church, sit in the dim, candle-lit sanctuary, listen to the choir sing, and reflect on His death, the ultimate payment for the sin of the world. We will hear the words of Jesus, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me,” as we take communion together. We will leave in darkness and silence, but knowing the dawn and rejoicing is coming.
Today I am…
feeling: super soft baby skin; a wet doggie nose on my bare arm; warm spit-up through my yoga pants
seeing: a grocery store bouquet on the dining room table: white lilies, white daisies with yellow centers, purple irises with yellow centers, and two palm branches; maple helicopters whirling down through the air; hostas poking up above the ground and starting to unfurl; books piled up on the coffee table; laundry piled up in the basement
tasting: milk and cereal, kefir, nutella toast; turkey, cheese, spinach, bread, carrots, hummus; a handful of salty almonds
smelling: the aforementioned lilies; stinky dog breath
hearing: the soft, muffled notes of Sam’s nap time music through the baby monitor; neighborhood dogs barking; my dogs barking their reply; a neighbor mowing her lawn