Growing up, Easter usually fell while my family and I were on our annual trip to Fort Walton Beach, Florida. We'd go to church at the local Catholic church, but I was more excited about the chocolate chip pancakes I was going to have afterwards than I was church.
I've gone through the motions of celebrating Easter for 36 years.
Today, I finally felt like I "got it".
Easter is about knowing that the story doesn't end.
I have had a lot of moments in my life where I didn't think that life was going to go on. In high school, when my friends and I got in a fight that resulted in ignoring each other in hallways, I thought my life was over. In college, when I was battling food addiction and in a horrible living situation, I thought my life was over. In my early twenties when I didn't land my dream job, I thought my life was over. In my thirties when I fell into a depression, I thought my life was over.
For all those times and all the moments in between, I was convinced there was nothing else for me.
I was wrong. Every single time.
My life has gone on, and it's gone on in ways I never imagined possible.
I know this all sounds very cliche and perhaps obvious, but as I sat in church today and heard our Pastor tell us that the resurrection HAPPENS, I felt so moved to think about my own life and all the times I have been able to rise out of the darkness.
I know there will come another moment in time when I feel, once again, like my life is over. And all I can hope is that someone reminds me that there is always hope. Every single minute of every day is a new chance to start again.
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