$pent Millennial

Dear Reader,

Be still.

Be still and find rest.

That’s all I ever want on Easter weekend. And yet, somehow, that never quite seems to be an option.

I come from one of those families—like many do—that gathers for Easter. I could choose to sit it out. I’ve thought about it. Maybe one day I will get there.

But it isn’t that I don’t want to see my family, or that I don’t enjoy their company. It’s the “more” that comes with it.

Because Easter falls on a Sunday, it’s rarely surrounded by extra time off. So weekends that already feel packed—filled with chores and a quiet hope for rest before the week begins—stretch even further. More food prep. More time “on.” More everything.

And all of that lands on a weekend that feels spiritually heavy to me.

A weekend where, if I’m honest, all I want is to sit still for a while. To rest in the weight of it all—the grief, the humanity, the cost. To sit in gratitude for a love that chose sacrifice and offered forgiveness anyway. And, eventually, to settle into the quiet hope that follows.

To me, Easter has never felt like a holiday meant for loud celebration or busyness, but for stillness. For reflection. For a kind of quiet that holds both sorrow and hope at the same time.

I’m keeping this brief, mostly as a reminder to myself to carve out even a small pocket of that stillness this weekend.

However you spend these days—whether you’re honoring the Cross, celebrating with family, following traditions with bunnies and baskets, or moving through it like any other weekend—I hope you find a moment to be still. To rest. To breathe.

Until next week—take care, and be still.

Everett