Lazarus Saturday

Last Saturday I was in Novi Sad.

I stepped out of my hotel in to the early morning sunshine.

Outside the cathedral, vendors were already standing selling those shiny helium filled balloons that parents love to buy for their children.

I could hear the tingling of little bells, attached to ribbons which were draped over the arms of the sellers – for this was Lazarus Saturday, the day before Palm Sunday, and children carry bells and willow branches on this day.

The early morning sunshine, the sound of little bells in the air, the street sellers setting up their stalls, walking through a city coming alive on just another morning of just another ordinary, nondescript day.

And I realised that I felt happier than I could remember.