Joy in the mundane of Easter

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Easter is one of my favorite times of the year, at least on this side of the equator. The earth is returning to its former summery glories. Bursts of colors here and there, soft red buds forming on the trees, and sprouts bursting forth from the not too long ago frozen soil. Easter is rebirth, a season of reflection, a season of thankfulness, and above all a season of hope. I love the idea that joy has become eternal, what this season represents. And for now we can catch small glimpses of that eternal joy everyday in the little things. Easter is an awesome reminder for me to keep looking for those glimpses, especially when I don’t necessarily feel like it.

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When one lives abroad for more than a year, the little things that once excited the senses start to become mundane. France lost its romantic sense to me a long time ago. Instead a sense of being home set in, both equally comforting and limiting. What I loved about the mundane of France though was its reminders of Easter everywhere. Walking through the small Provençal towns, the Norman beachscapes, and the Parisian cathedrals, stood the cross. Carved into stone, sculpted by metal, crafted with wood, painted with ocher dust. Easter was every day. The bells of the local belfry became normal, comforting, and an old yet undated reminder of the Easter celebration that our ancestors from generations ago, celebrated too. I loved how this connected me to them, and connected me to a lonely event that took place 2,000 years ago.

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As this Easter day comes to a close, I want to remember that Easter is every day. I love this quote, which I think can be attributed to Ravi Zacharias, maybe someone else: Death is Dead. What a beautiful idea indeed. Happy Easter!

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