Sunday Rest

Slice of Life #4 - March 4, 2012

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child . . . and I hated Sunday afternoon naps! Every Sunday my sisters and I had to do the Sunday dinner dishes . . . quietly.  We were then banished to our rooms to do something that wouldn't disturb our parents, something quiet. If we happened to get into a tiff over something inconsequential and wake our parents from their long afternoon naps, . . . dun dun dun! We knew better. We could read books. We could color. We could watch TV with the sound down low. We were not to yell, run, scream, stomp, or make any loud noises until at least 4:00 in the afternoon. It was interminable!

Now I am an adult. The children have already flown the coop. I still have to do the Sunday dinner dishes, well, the dishwasher and I do them. I still delight in reading and writing during that blessedly quiet Sunday afternoon interval, but it has changed. It used to be interminable. Now it is fleeting. It is my haven of rest, my calm before the storm. It is a pearl of great price. It is my time to refuel before the new week. This is my treasured time, my Sunday afternoon naptime.

When I was a child I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child . . . and I hated Sunday afternoon naps. Now I am grown. I put my childish ways behind me . . . and I take my naps without complaining.