Today is Easter, and so I think of resurrection. I think of how we celebrate with eggs and bunnies, symbols of transformation and new life, hope and fertility. It is the early days of spring, and even with this year's strange not-winter, there is enough change to appreciate the bright green of buds, the riot of blossoms on trees, the bright flowers uncurling themselves from the ground.
The very earth is resurrecting.
"Resurrection is never easy." It's one of the quotations that means the most to me, from Andrew Greeley's Lord of the Dance. The character who says it, the teenager Noelle, who is beaten, and raped, and tossed aside like garbage, and who resurrects herself from that horror, well, she would know. And I know that sort of resurrection. Too many of us do. I celebrate all of us today.
There are those who know the most literal resurrections. Who, through the miracle of science, and technology, and skilled women and men, have come back from death. Whose hearts have been restarted, whose cancers have been cured. I celebrate them, too.
Today, on Easter, as we celebrate life, and spring, as we celebrate the fact that there is a dawn after darkness, that there is a spring after winter, that what is alive will bloom again, I celebrate the quieter resurrections as well. I celebrate the turning of our faces and our lives toward hope, toward new life, toward growth. I celebrate each choice we make to become reborn, to renew, to pull ourselves out of terror, and death, and to resurrect.