Sundays are a mixed bag for me. I love being able to change up the pace a bit, and not spend half my day in the car. We usually get some pretty good family time in, and of course, I love the idea of going to church and learning and being uplifted. Currently, and for some time now, that is only an idea. We begin church at 9am this year, and it is not agreeing with us. Church is generally one big noisy, frustrating wrestling match that is mostly a blur to me when I look back on it. Since I can't say Sunday is all about being spiritually fed these days, I have to just catch the moments that happen because it's Sunday and different from the other days in the week.
This last Sunday, those moments included:
Noah repeatedly putting his hands out and shaking his head, saying, "And he's like, where's Jesus?" all through Sacrament meeting.
While the bread and water were being passed, Noah tried with all his might to feed both to Steve (in his Blue's Clues book). We figure that's better than when he used to pray in the name of Steve.
After living here 11 and a half months, being asked to introduce myself to the class in Sunday School. Seriously? I included this one because I might find it funny at some point.
Marley constantly checking on the old lady behind us who was "thleeping". She actually seemed relieved when the lady finally stayed awake for a while.
Being told by the lady that does music in Primary that my Duncan is "just enchanting" and "so fun".
Playing a game with the kids that ended with everyone laughing and no one crying.
During a nice long dinner time talk about lots of things including what to name the new baby, Duncan completely flipping out on the family when names were being suggested other than the one he likes. Screaming, "Will you guys stop it with this first name and middle name and last name???? Will you just stop it already?????". I think he figures he didn't get the gender he ordered, so he's getting his name choice, period.
Noah told everyone he loved them, by name, at bedtime. Okay, so I can't say for sure that this one happened because it was Sunday, but I do think Noah picks up on a good day, good family time and love in the air, and that seems a lot more likely for us on a Sunday.
These are the things that keep me sane on Sundays. There are many that are just ridiculously hard from start to finish, and I wonder if there's any point to it all. I think for now the point might be noticing and having gratitude for the moments. You know, in between the screaming, floods, fights, complaining... aaaah, Sunday.
4 comments:
Or the point could be to give other women relief that it is OK for their lives to be something other than what they pictured for themselves, something about unknowingly being an answer to someone else's prayer.
Oh Wendy. You are definately not alone. It is so nice to see that I'm not the only one who feels like this. Thank you!
Cue the throngs of elderly women who smilingly give you a list of service you can do in the ward that week because "you're in the prime of your life" and "your kids are the perfect age to see your example."
I don't know which is more sad - that I am on the verge of a breakdown because I know I am the last woman in the ward who can handle helping one more person. Or the fact that those women have been in my shoes before and know what they're talking about.
Sundays. Drain, nourish, drain, nourish. But in the end, it's my favorite day of the week.
(Sorry again for long comments. Your posts are always so thought-provoking. I love that.)
I love everything you write. LOVE.
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