Monday, February 14, 2005

Sunday's Comin' (Yea! Rah!)

Sundays . . . I'm now a convert.

For years I saw Sundays as anything but the Sabbath -- a day of rest and remembering. Sundays were all about busy-ness, even if I didn't frequent that many businesses. (And yes, I went through a period where I didn't go to any stores on Sunday.) I've spent my entire life getting to the church by 9 a.m. and staying until after 12 . . . sometimes waaaaaaaaay after 12. Committee meetings, training, whatever . . . these tasks consumed me.

And then there was the ongoing debate about Sunday nights. Do we make everyone come back? Do we call it family time? "We've never done it that way before so why start now?" was a constant cry. "We should meet on Sunday night; it's the right thing to do."

Should . . . must . . . have to . . . all those glorious obligation words. I embraced them.

Then my whole faith system went through the shredder. I stopped going to church after the divorce. Initially because my ex worked at the church. Then, quite honestly, because I didn't really want to have that many conversations with God. We weren't exactly on speaking terms.

I came to love Sunday mornings as a result. I relaxed. I gave up feeling guilty. I read the paper section by section. Sometimes I treated myself to a decadent breakfast. Sometimes I didn't. I gave myself permission to make the bed whenever it was convenient. I walked or jogged or rode a bike.

I rested . . . and soon I even remembered.

I remembered that the home that I was nestling in was a blessing. I remembered the paper exposed me to a world of adventure created by a greater imagination than I could even imagine. I remembered that the food I ate was a celebration in creativity, yet another connection to my Creator. I remembered the air I took in, the sights of people, trees, birds on the bayou and silly little moments along the trail were all brought to me by powers outside my understanding but not outside my grasp.

Eventually, my work got me back to a group of folks who meet regularly as believers with questions and the grace to allow time for answers. But they meet at 4 p.m. on Sunday afternoon. So all those things I had started doing? I still do them. Only now, I close the Sabbath with a celebration. Sounds almost Old Testament, doesn't it?

The Sabbath -- once a day where I worked to worship and almost worshipped my work, and now truly a day of rest and remembering.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You really know how to make a church worker cry, don't you?