A Snapshot of one Sunday in these Post-Church Years

This morning I wake up to the soothing sound of rain pelting on my roof. I roll over in bed, cuddle closer to my husband and our little dog who is snoring between us, and let the rain drops soothe me back to sleep.

You see, it’s Sunday morning … and I have nowhere I have to be.

Later the rain continues to fall, now bouncing on the kitchen skylight, as I sit cozy in the den debating on whether I should light the fireplace; I am embracing the changing season. I linger over a cup of coffee, breathing deeply, feeling at peace and grateful.

How lovely that it is Sunday morning … and I have nowhere else to be.

A few years ago, this would be an entirely different story.

A few years ago, I was an active member of a small evangelical Christian church, and Sunday mornings found me very busy. I often neglected to pause to catch my breath or to find the time to really soak up and enjoy God’s creation. I kept myself too busy to simply be.

But now my mornings are relaxed, calm, peaceful and full of opportunities for gratitude.

I hear my husband walking down the hall. I smile. I could recognize the sound of his walk anywhere. “Coffee is on” I say. And we enjoy the morning hours together, having breakfast, talking quietly, making plans, discussing recent happenings, laughing, relishing the gift of each other. Life is busy with our two careers, grown daughters and one grandson. It’s wonderful to have this time to connect – just the two of us.

The morning rain gives way to a fresh, breezy sunny afternoon. It’s early fall. I do a quick tidy of our loving little home, washing bed sheets and hanging them outside to dry. I pause and reflect … Oh, how I love the smell of sheets that have been air dried. They carry the sweet smell of the village where we live.

The hubby heads off to do some errands and I hook the leash on our little doggy. He jumps and squeals with excitement in response to the word “walk”. I smile.

We start our journey along our favourite path with much tail wagging and sniffing. We walk past open fields colourful with goldenrod and other wildflowers, we hear the steady gentle buzzing of insects and the rustle of leaves as the wind blows through. This same breeze catches my hair and tickles the back of my neck.

What a gift it is to be alive on this bright, breezy Sunday afternoon, with nowhere else I have to be.

The day passes peacefully, lazily, as I putter. One of our daughters has left home to start her own little family, and I have been renovating her former bedroom into a new yoga room. Today I remove a rug from one space and place it in this new space. I smile at the results. I breathe deep and an image comes to my mind of my husband carefully painting the window frame of this room. He’s done a lot of work here, scraping stucco off the ceiling and painting the walls my choice of a “gentle rain” grey. I sense the love with which he created this room. Like the love I imagine Jesus felt as He spoke the world into being. In here, I feel safe and warm.

It’s become a sacred place to spend time in on this Sunday where I am free to just be.

Later I pour myself a glass of rosé from my favourite winery. My mind travels back to a couple of Sundays ago when my husband and I jumped onto his motorcycle and we spent the day touring around. He drove me to my favourite winery in Niagara on the Lake because this is the only place your can purchase this particular wine. It’s not sold in stores. I remember how special that Sunday was. And then my mind flows to other Sundays. Sundays filled with fun, spontaneity and love. Sundays spent laughing with my little grandson, daughter and her partner. Family Sundays spent with my Mother in Law. Sundays spent with friends. Sundays of fun and enjoyment. Sundays of peace and contentment. Sundays spent enjoying the many gifts God has blessed me with. Sundays of gratitude.

How I love these Sundays. Days where I have nowhere in particular to be. Days where I am free to be me.