One of my favorite things about the Easter story is how it symbolizes a reset for humanity. It’s fitting that this celebration occurs in spring, a season marked by renewal after winter’s challenges. This feels especially true for me right now. I’ve been experiencing my own winter—personally and professionally—waiting for dreams to bloom. And finally, they seem ready to flourish. Change feels inevitable, even when nothing else does. Like Jesus’ story, my reset hasn’t come in the way I expected.

A few days ago, sitting in a hotel room on the West Coast, all I wanted was to be home. I get homesick often, but this time was different. Traveling almost every week for two months had left me drained. Though I was relieved when Samantha picked me up Thursday night, my mind wouldn’t rest. So I met her with a million questions (fun huh?). I knew the upcoming Easter weekend was packed—parent coffee, a dance, a track meet, sleepovers, and family celebrations. What I truly needed was relaxation, though I’m still learning what that looks like.

Here’s a story illustrating just how bad I am at relaxing: After a six-hour drive from Florida recently, I collapsed onto my bed. My wife instructed the girls to leave me alone because I was “relaxing.” Our youngest, Sloane, wandered in curious about what relaxing meant for me, only to find me typing on my laptop. She called me out immediately: You’re not relaxing, you’re working. She wasn’t wrong lol.

Last night involved hours of chauffeuring as we prepared Olivia for her middle school dance. While waiting, I entertained the younger girls with a bike ride around Trilith. After quickly capturing Olivia’s pre-dance glamour shots, I barely had time for dinner before heading back for pickup, and then finally collapsing into bed around 11 pm. A mere seven hours later, I was loading our van again, trying (and failing) to get London to her track meet warm-up on time.

Track meets are still new territory for us. I brought along a tent purchased nearly a decade ago, only to discover I’d forgotten the covering tarp—a rookie mistake. Other families clearly had this routine down, sporting elaborate setups complete with fans, electricity, and impressive tailgate spreads. Clearly, we’ve got a steep learning curve.

Late in the day, almost by accident, I found my way to the best seats at the top of the stadium. It was near the empty press box, and I was just thankful for the quiet breeze with the panoramic view. From that peaceful vantage point, I soaked in the scene—young athletes giving their all, proud families cheering, and I reflected on the sacrifices parents make. It reminded me of my mother, who tirelessly attended my games and band competitions growing up.

Driving home afterward, I glanced back at my family in the van, capturing a mental snapshot. It brought back memories of supporting my older brother at his track meets—moments I didn’t fully appreciate then but cherish now. I’m grateful we could be there to support London, share laughs with Olivia, and create memories as a family.

Now, finally sitting quietly in my living room, wrapped in a blanket, I’m experiencing my own version of a reset, a slow down in order to move forward. Tomorrow, we’ll celebrate Resurrection Day, a reminder of hope during uncertain times. The future remains unclear, but knowing exactly what comes next isn’t the point. The point is believing the best is yet to come.

SDW3