4-year-old Bridget was in her sandbox playing when she got a headache.

She went inside to her mother who comforted her, gave her some medicine, and then sent her off again to play. But Bridget soon returned with the same complaint. This prompted phone calls, an Internet search, a drive to the doctor’s office, then a rush to the hospital where it was discovered that Bridget was that one in a million child who had developed a massive brain tumor that was aggressively taking over. Her stunned and shocked parents stood by, unable to fully process the unfolding story. An operation would be done the next morning, and the chances were not good. Their priest was brought in to prepare them for the inevitable – the loss of their only child.

The 24 hours before the operation brought a roller coaster of emotion to Bridget’s parents who had to try to remain upbeat and hopeful, but having seen the x-rays, remain realists: that this operation was a very, very long shot.  And sure enough, after a four-hour procedure the next morning, the surgeon entered the waiting room staring at the floor. He said he had managed to remove the tumor cleanly, however little Bridget was not able to hang on while she was being patched up. The couple collapsed in tears.

Before leaving the hospital Bridget’s mother asked if she could see her daughter one more time. An orderly accompanied her to the cold, brightly lit basement where Bridget’s body was being stored. As the orderly pulled out the gurney where the tiny body lay, he noticed something.

Bridget was moving.

Emergency staff was rushed in. They were able to revive Bridget. She coughed and cried, but she was kicking. Oh yes, it was a miracle. This 4 year old went on to fully recover. And months later as she played, once again, in her sandbox, her parents looked out at her through the kitchen window filled with unspeakable joy.

This is Easter.

It's not about colored eggs and jellybeans, it’s about the thing most dear to us, having gone away, against all odds, has returned. What more need our lives be than testimonies to the joy of that moment?