I know Easter is just another Sunday.
One of 52 each year.
But it feels different.
That given the heartbreak with which so many live to the violence which screams at us from the news to he absolute craziness of the world around us, that there is a vision and a hope which might keep our lives from spinning completely out of control. And, which might, in the end, save us. A promise that life – yours, mine, ours, theirs – might be different. Better.
For a moment all of it almost seems real.
We can almost see it.
Almost believe it.
Then, Monday comes.
And we wonder if what we felt in that moment was real.
Real enough to make today different.
Real enough to make us different.
That is what we are left to decide.