Growing up, my faith was a big part of my existence. My family is Catholic and I attended religious education for eight years before becoming confirmed. After, I joined a weekly youth group through my church, in addition to attending Mass almost every week. This was a part of my identity and a weekly ritual that brought me a lot of joy.
And then, suddenly, along every other aspect of my life, it was uprooted. The one thing that I could always count on to be consistent in my life was swept away. There wouldn’t be a Mass that I would be going to this week. That shook me to the very center of my existence.
Soon, my weekly youth group was meeting online. My family would watch Mass in our pajamas, sitting in the living room. It wasn’t until Easter that I realized how much everything had changed.
Easter is a time of rebirth, the resurrection of Christ. Yet, there I was, sitting on my couch, and I had never felt more spiritually tired. If this was any other year, I would be sitting at 9 a.m. Mass with the rest of my family. We would go over to my grandparent’s house and eat our Easter dinner with my aunt and her family. But that didn’t happen this year. Nothing like this has ever completely altered every aspect of my life before. The worst part is, there is nothing I can do to change the circumstances– only my outlook.
So, in this season of rebirth, while I cannot celebrate it in person with my friends and family, I have been trying to find my own ways of celebrating. Renewal is all around us. Why can I not seek it in my everyday life? Monotony is the worst thing in the world. So, should I sit passively while the world continues the same routine? Or should I go out and seek the rebirth that is around us– not spiritually, but physically?
The flowers are starting to sprout from the ground and the trees are budding after a long winter. There is renewal surrounding every aspect of humanity. While snow may be falling, even in April, the excitement that a new season brings is still here. I have spent a lot of time puzzling over how this new condition of life could possibly happen. But personally, I have chosen to see God in the little things– the birds chirping outside, my neighbors playing in their backyard and their shrieks of childhood laughter.
Most of all, I see Him in the solidarity that is shown. I am seeing the healthcare workers who are putting their lives at risk every day. I am seeing the teachers who are putting aside their own worries and fears to get their student the necessary materials. Through this all, I am seeing hope. Hope for the future and solidarity as a civilization. My faith is helping me to see this.