Sacred Sunday

I want to celebrate the Sabbath.  I grew up being taught that Sunday is a special day, a set apart day, a day of rest.  In my childhood, it was also a family day, the one day that "lunch" was called "dinner" and the entire family ate it in my grandmother's dining room with the good china and the silverware from the hutch rather than the kitchen drawer.  

I like that version of Sunday.

For the past several months--and for the foreseeable future--Sunday has become something else: "Daddy Day."  Daddy Days are the exact opposite of my cherished Sabbath.  Daddy Days are the times I do things I can't do with children.  They are my mow-the-lawn days.  My go-to-a-meeting-without-having-to-find-a-babysitter days.  My catch-up-on-writing-article days. 

Daddy Days are supposed to be down times, but they really end up being work-extra-hard days.  I have had to reconcile myself to this new approach, but I admit that it is difficult.  I know Jesus said, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath."  I know that all days are both equally holy and equally mundane.  I know that my Sunday hang-ups are probably more cultural than biblical. 

Having said that, there is a place for the Sabbath being the Sabbath of my childhood.  Yesterday, I took an "old-fashioned" day of rest, and it was the best thing I ever could have done!

I felt crummy yesterday, from 4:30 in the morning until 9:30 went I went to sleep.  Whether the cause was physical or mental exhaustion, stress, bad clams, or a combination of the above I can't say.  It doesn't really matter.  I felt yucky. 

I dragged my kids and myself to church, sent them off to Daddy Day, and decided to watch TV for an hour before starting on my chores: mow the lawn, write an article, clean the pool filter, buy Roundup and kill the weeds making my stone driveway look like my house is uninhabited. 

After my hour, I gave myself another one.  Somewhere along the line I realized that I really just needed a day to rest.  It had been at least 2 weeks since I last had time alone without the kids and without working.  I'd spent a week in Maine--fun, but tiring.  I'd finally been divorced.  I was done in. 

So aside from taking one hour to attend choir rehearsal at church, I vegged out in front of the TV discovering sci-fi shows I didn't know existed and basically frying my brain.  I felt a little guilty, but I'm learning to live with a little guilt now and then! 

When I awoke this morning, my grass was a little longer.  My driveway was a little more ragged.  My pool filter was a little dirtier.  I was a little behind on my jobs. 

BUT...my headache was gone.  My stomach felt better.  I got out of bed ready to face the day.  I cleaned my house, made home-made chocolate pudding, entertained my pastor's wife (my friend!), read to my kids, watched a movie with my kids, wrote an article, wrote a blog, and contacted all my people for Job #4. 

Not a bad day! 

I guess the point is, I could have forced myself to be "productive" yesterday.  At one time, maybe I would have.  I may have gotten more done that day, but I can pretty much guarantee I would have gotten less done today. 

Sometimes maybe a day of rest is worth the price of a shaggy lawn.