This morning, I woke up before the alarm went off, a rare occurrence. I'm more likely to sleep through an alarm than wake up before one goes off.
The positive side of waking up this way is that there was time for quiet. Lying on my left side, left arm tucked under my head, is the position my cat best likes to find me in. He came and plopped into my arm pet and pressed himself against me, as he does, and I rubbed his belly with my ear against him to hear his purrs.
This day we enter into the 6th week of Easter. By this time, we've more or less all forgotten about the trumpets and lilies of the first day of Easter. All the chocolate eggs are probably long gone and even the half-priced marshmallow bunnies are gone from the CVS shelf.
It's not just me. Collectively, we have a hard time celebrating for 50 days, too.
So I had already pretty well decided that this week would be a week of quieter reflections, but my cat gave me an excellent start to it.
It's not all about the shouts of alleluias and trumpets and bells. Resurrection happens quietly, too.