“Sometimes I go about with pity for myself and all the while Great Winds are carrying me across the sky.” – Ojibway saying

On the days that don’t make sense, the ones that chip away at our core, rather our ego, we are being broken and remolded for something new. A slow releasing of what’s not important anymore, the arm wrestle of growth, a series of letting goes.

And in those moments of the mundane, we can let feelings and moods rise to the top and move through them to finish what’s been started. And in the midst of the dry days, the hollow is transforming into the hallowed. Faith holds our hand to the other side and gratitude shines the light of what is ours here and now.

Flowers bloom. The sun rises. Easter always comes.