As you come to him, the living Stone--rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him--you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 2: 4-5

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Easy Like Sunday Morning...

Remember that old song???? I am not even sure who sang it---James Taylor maybe? Growing up, I remember this as being true. Sunday mornings meant waking up to Neil Diamond or John Denver on the stereo, my parents sitting calmly in the quiet, reading the paper. I do n't remember chaos, rush, or stress. Yet, here it is Sunday morning, and even though it is hours before anyone else will even be thinking about getting up, I know right now that it will not be a peaceful, easy Sunday morning. It will be a frantic search for clothes, arguments about the bathroom, and a last minute rush to get out the door. And when we get home, there will be even more chaos...but only for everyone else relaxes and I frantically will be trying to finish the laundry, pick up from the morning madness. But then I go to church, and the stress of the morning vanishes. I lose myself in the worship, the fellowship, the peace. And this is my typical Sunday morning.

Today is not a typical Sunday morning, though. First of all, it's five in the morning and I have been up for an hour and a half. Because I am sick. All week, I have been trying so hard not to give in to it...the fatigue, the cough, the headaches, the body aches. I made it through each day only to come home and pretty much collapse until having to get up and do it all over again. The house? is gross. The laundry? well, seeing as our washing machine also broke this comment. The dishes? Let's just say that I went out and bought paper plates and cups...not only because they were piling up, but the dishwasher also broke. Saturday morning, I woke up, and I was sick. Not the "ug, I feel bad, but I'll just muddle through" sick, but the lay in the bed and cry, can't lift your head off the pillow, it hurts to breathe kind of sick. So I sucked it up and finally went to the doctor. Bronchitis, sinusitis, and an ear infection. Started on antibiotics yesterday and while I was able to sleep a few hours last night, I woke up this morning with a horrible sore throat, a blinding headache, and well, I will save you from the details of the rest.

And yet, in three short hours, the house will be awake again, and the Sunday morning chaos will begin. And I will still have to join the frantic search for church shoes, iron clothes, find something for breakfast. While Daryl has many admirable qualities, being able to do anything while he is trying to get himself ready...not one of them. It is as if nothing else exists. A man thing, maybe--or just my man? (either way, irritating, but I digress) And unlike our typical Sunday morning, I will be waving good bye to them as they go to church, and I stay home.

And I will miss it. This is the second Sunday this month that I have been sick. And I hate that. Not because I feel like it is something I have to do, out of obligation, but something that I want to do. Those few hours on a frantic Sunday morning refuel and refresh me. It is my turn , after a week of spiritually "feeding" and teaching others, to be "fed." I'll most likely retire back to bed once everyone leaves and I can't keep anyone up with my tossing and turning and hacking, and I imagine I will find some good praise music on the radio. I will probably also to be able to find a service on the radio as well to listen to. But it won't be the same as worshipping, fellowshipping, praying with my church family and the wonderful (albeit messy, loud and chaotic) family God has graced me with.

Maybe, just maybe, an easy Sunday morning isn't all it's cracked up to be.

1 comment:

  1. so sorry you are so sick. i am crackin up though about daryl not being able to do anything else but get himself ready. TOO funny. get some rest. keep using those paper products. try not to worry about the house. you are growing a baby, for heaven's sakes.