The Blog: Laments From La Mancha

This day has been a long time coming.

Since the end of October I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting for some things to change.

I’ve written about being stuck in the mud, I’ve written about being in stasis, on the edge of waiting and all that other good stuff.

This week the waiting is over.

Today is Independence Day.

After more than 5 years at the Journal Gazette, I’ve been able to resign.

In October I started working with my current bosses at the University of Saint Francis to see what they wanted to do with me when my contracted term of working two jobs was over.

Opportunities were whispered of, far off distances that may or may not come to reality.

Some of those have and the really big one is in process, but since nothing is official I cannot comment yet about it, but it’s coming and I’m stepping out in faith that it’s going to happen.

But in a few short days (weeks) my 80+ hour, 7 day a week life is about to change. I’ll have weekends free, nights where I can stay up past 9, and God forbid, holidays off.

I cannot begin to tell you how free I feel today, I want to toss of my shoes and just run in the sun.

Today is a great day. Today I celebrate my independence.

Game Night (1)

Gardens of Alhambra
Taj Mahaul
Colossal Arena

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Game Night (2)

San Marco
El Grande

Today was not what I thought it would be at all.

I had put in some extra hours at the newspaper so I got to take off early on Saturday morning. I was beat. I had dreams of napping in the early morning, spending the day playing some video games, reading Ender’s Game (Steph it’s awesome, thanks for turning me on to that), and burning some DVDs.

It was going to be a grand day.

Phase one was in action. I had just started to doze off when the phone rang. Michelle who was busy getting around for the day picked it up. It was April.

“Is Bob there?”

“I think he’s napping, can I take a message?”

“Yeah, this is sister April, if he could call me back later, that would be great. Please tell him it’s an emergency.”

“Emergency? I’ll wake him up right now.”

April, you kill me.

To make a long story short my parents were in an accident and my mom was in the hospital in Goshen. April had no idea what was going on, my dad called upset, said that mom was in the hospital and totaled the car.

A minute and a half later Michelle and I were in the car and on our way to Goshen.

It’s interesting the things that go through your mind as you picture the worst you can imagine based on the information you’ve heard.

The Probe is a little gold spot on the highway some where. Mom is under going emergency surgery. Dad is possibly injured as well.

Your body is tense. You’re angry. You’re angry because you are scared. You are rushing out into a situation of which you are blindly ignorant of any of the details.

Several minutes later I was able to get a hold of April again to drag more details out of her. This time around I had more time to dig and get to the truth of the matter. Dad called, he was upset, so upset that he handed the phone to mom. Ah, well, that changes things. No longer was mom rushed into surgery, she was in good enough health that she could talk on the phone.

Tension eases. Blood pressure goes down.

In the end the car wasn’t that bad, just the front clip was damaged. Two houses down from where my parents live a guy pulled out in front of them and dad whacked him (it was the other guys fault since he had a stop sign). Mom and struck the dashboard hard enough to leave part of it on her pants and they were concerned about her hip.

So other than a broken car, bruising, swelling and lots of pain, everyone is all right.

Several hours later, I finally returned home. Not quite the day I had imagined at all.

But then again, when are they ever?

I found this online and thought it was worth sharing. The original article can be found here.

Origins of Easter
Brief history of the spring holiday
by David Johnson

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Christians celebrate Easter to commemorate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Some trappings of modern Easter celebrations, however, pre-date Christianity and have ancient pagan roots.

Ancient Fertility Goddess

Easter takes its name from Ishtar, the Babylonian and Assyrian goddess of love and fertility. The Phoenicians knew her as Astarte, sister and consort of Baal, a God worshipped in much of the Middle East and Mediterranean. Some of the ancient Hebrews also worshipped Baal.

Astarte spread through Europe, becoming Ostara, the Anglo-Saxon goddess of spring, fertility, and the rising sun. The Old English word for Easter, “Eastre” refers to Ostara.

Around the second century A.D., Christian missionaries seeking to convert the tribes of northern Europe realized that the time of the crucifixion of Jesus roughly coincided with the Teutonic springtime celebrations, which emphasized the triumph of life over death. Christian Easter gradually absorbed the traditional symbols.

Eggs and Rabbits Have Long Legacies

The egg and the rabbit, two of Easter’s most common symbols, also have ancient associations with spring.

Eggs symbolize birth and fertility in many cultures. Ancient Egyptians and the Persians colored eggs to give as gifts during their spring festival.

The legends of ancient Egypt connect the hare, which comes out at night to feed, with the moon. Rabbits have remained fertility symbols in other, later cultures.

According to Anglo-Saxon myth Ostara, wanting to delight some children one day, turned her pet bird into a rabbit. The rabbit proceeded to lay brightly colored eggs, which Ostara gave to the children.

Easter Egg Hunts

In ancient Europe, eggs of different colors were taken from the nests of various birds and used to make talismans. The eggs were often ritually eaten. The search through the woods for eggs gradually evolved into the Easter egg hunt, while painted eggs eventually replaced wild birds’ eggs. Easter baskets were probably originally intended to resemble birds’ nests.

Forbidden Eggs

In Medieval Europe, eggs were forbidden during Lent. Therefore they were a prized Easter gift for children and servants.

Eggs were painted bright colors to resemble the sun and springtime. Often, the colors and patterns had romantic symbolism, and lovers exchanged eggs as they send Valentine’s Day cards today.

Different Traditions

Orthodox Christians in the Middle East and in Greece, painted eggs bright red to resemble the blood of Christ. Hollow eggs (created by piercing the shell with a needle and blowing out the contents) were decorated with pictures of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and other religious figures in Armenia.

Germans gave green eggs as gifts on Holy Thursday. They also hung hollow eggs on trees. Austrians placed tiny plants around the egg and then boiled them. When the plants were removed, white patterns were created.

Artistic Creations

The most elaborate Easter egg traditions appear to have emerged in Eastern Europe. In Poland and Ukraine, eggs were often painted silver and gold. Pysanky (to design or write) eggs were created by carefully applying wax in patterns to an egg. The egg was then dyed, wax would be reapplied in spots to preserve that color, and the egg was boiled again in other shades. The result was a multi-color stripped or patterned egg.

Cards and Chocolate

Easter cards arrived in Victorian England, when a stationer added a greeting to a drawing of a rabbit. The cards proved popular.

The Germans probably began making chocolate bunnies and eggs. Immigrants took the custom to Pennsylvania. As Easter celebrations became more common after the Civil War, the custom of chocolate eggs took hold.

Easter Parades

After their baptisms, early Christians wore white robes all through Easter week to indicate their new lives. Those had already been baptized wore new clothes instead to symbolize their sharing a new life with Christ.

In Medieval Europe, churchgoers would take a walk after Easter Mass, led by a crucifix of the Easter candle. Today these walks endure as Easter Parades. People show off their spring finery, including lovely bonnets decorated for spring.

Good Friday is one of those hard days for me.

I’ve been a Christian now for years (almost 22 years). Some have been good years, and some not so good years, but one thing has always remained the same. Good Friday.

It is that day every where when I stand before God and see his son on the cross and know that I put him there. I know that by my actions, by my love of the flesh more than the love of what is good has put him there.

My selfishness, my anger, my lust, my lies, my sin.

I am responsible for his death.

It’s a dark time. It’s hard to look over your actions and examine them for what they are. To see into your heart and to know what is really there. See it’s easy to lie to the people around you, it’s even easier to lie to ourselves. We are the victims and everyone else is wrong, but in the end, we are a product of our own actions.

But there is always a moment of clarity in all that self loathing.

While Jesus died because of my need, I didn’t put him there.

He did.

He made the choice to pay the price for my sins.

It was his love, his goodness, his compassion and forgiveness that held him there to take the punishment for my wrong.

He died in my place not because he had to, but because he loved me so much, he couldn’t do anything else.

And because of that there is hope.

Because of that there is forgiveness.

Because of that, I can have life and life eternally.