On this first day of Easter it makes me think of all our Sunday mornings we went to church when I was a child. Wearing our Sunday clothes, being a bit grumpy as it had put a time slot on our abundant Sunday morning breakfast. We were not going every Sunday, but the intention was to go at least once every two weeks. Pretty old fashioned you might think. The funny thing is, that now, looking back on those days that I always thought were quite boring, they were actually exactly what I needed back then. Those were the moments I really became quiet on the inside. Normally my head and thoughts were working overtime, but here I was forced to go inside, thank the people I love for their presence and care for me and be able to just ‘be’. Sometimes the tears started dripping from my eyes and I even couldn’t tell why. Sometimes I felt stuck and didn’t know what to do, but somehow this one hour in church gave me exactly what I needed to move on again.