Thank you, Cristina Breshears.
Beautiful, prescient, wise, and deeply loving.
💜🙏 Molly
Yesterday, a friend and I walked through the neighborhood park and saw what resurrection actually looks like.
Everywhere I turned, people were emerging from their winter cocoons. I saw heads resting on the laps of their beloveds, families lying on the gentle slopes, and neighbors leaning against the ancient elms to soak in the spring sun. It was a scene of quiet, collective renewal; a neighborhood exhaling together.
Then came today's headlines. A "Bridge Day" defined by threats. A "Power Plant Day" promised for Tuesday. A vision of "living in Hell."
The contrast couldn't be sharper.
To "practice resurrection" is to look at those people on their blankets, vulnerable, peaceful, and connected, and decide that this is the world worth building and protecting and cherishing.
While the headline focuses on the power to destroy infrastructure, resurrection focuses on the power to sustain life. It's to be an intentional bridge-builder. It is the slow, often quiet work of restoring what is broken and choosing the difficult path of peace over the instant gratification of destruction. It is the persistent determination to hold things together.
We practice resurrection when we choose the gentle slope of the park over the steep climb of conflict; when we trade the "Power Plant" of destruction for the quiet energy of spring growth; when we build understanding where there is animosity; when we offer mercy where there is a demand for "Hell" and plant seeds of life even when the forecast says "Tuesday will be nothing like it;" when we protect the "bridges" of our own neighborhoods and the simple acts of resting, leaning, and embracing.
Today, we can choose a different kind of power. We can choose to stay in the sunshine. We can choose to be the bridge. Let’s be the kind of people who make every day a "Bridge Day." Not for tearing down, but for reaching across.
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