Sunday can be a tough day in our household.
My husband and I spent years serving in various church ministries, so for a long time Sunday was a day of early mornings and responsibilities.
Even though we’ve taken several steps back, some weeks I feel like we’re still hungover from sacred overcommitment. Sundays often are days of headaches, lethargy, and grumpiness.
One recent Sunday morning found us getting into the car right as our church service was set to begin several miles away.
“Let’s not do this,” I said. “I’m going to miss the singing. The kids will have to walk into class in the middle of their lesson. I don’t want to do this. Maybe we can try for the late service.”
Frazzled and tense, I insisted everyone get out of the car and go back into the house.
I gave myself a time out. I was angry at the world after a tough morning and needed quiet time to gain back some maturity.
Paul and the boys headed for the front yard, where they started an epic football game that ended with the discovery of a snake sunning itself by our fence.
We headed back out an hour later, more ready to face the day. Church, lunch out, an afternoon at the art museum….after the initial rough start, we had a storybook Sunday.
A day that started out a mess — a mess of my own making, a mess made in the name of worship — was beautifully redeemed for our family.
Today I’m thankful for transforming grace that can do more than I can possibly imagine. Even on Sundays.
Photo by Paul Nicholson.
