Rebirth.   I suppose that’s where this Easter situation started. I’m not sure how a rabbit and eggs, unrelated to each other, made their way into an early spring resurrection Sunday, but a fat dude in a red suit falling down chimneys doesn’t make a lot of sense for somebody’s birthday, either.   We’ve been making up stories to fit our chosen narrative for a long time.   No surprise that we still do.    As kids, we move from 100% certainty that Santa Claus is coming to town to 100% certainty that he’s not. And yet, as adults, we have a harder time letting go of narratives, no matter how disproven they are. We seem to cling harder, if anything.   And the more ridiculous these stories are about the world around us, the better we feel about the consequences of our own decisions. Especially when we’re not where we think we should be.   Which makes this story of a man’s rebirth on this particular Sunday many moons ago interesting.   Ridiculous, to people lacking faith in the impossible.   And yet comforting, even inspiring… this idea that we can hit the restart button.    Today, tomorrow, next week, right now. In our thoughts, our actions, our beliefs. How we treat each other and ourselves.   Rebirth.   That’s a story I can believe in.