I’ve had a few people ask me about the name of this blog, Sunday Sometime. How did I come up with it? What does it mean? To me, it’s simple – we need more Sundays.
Sundays used to feel special to me when I was growing up. Even the name “Sunday” conjured up images of warm, sunny days, although most of the time they were anything but, especially in Michigan in the middle of February (or any month from November through April!). Regardless of the weather, it was the one day of the week where everyone was home. We didn’t always do anything special; I just remember Sundays as being rather laid back and low-key.
One constant on Sundays was church. It didn’t matter what time of year it was, or whether it was 90 degrees in the shade or -15 with the wind chill, Sunday always meant church, and always in your “Sunday best.” I grew up Catholic, and in those days you wouldn’t dream of going to church in anything but your best clothes. My dad, who was a blue collar guy his entire life and never dressed up for work, would wear a suit and tie to church every week. My mom would wear a dress, nylons and heels, and my sister and I would wear dresses with knee socks and our Mary Janes that my dad polished to look new the night before. Our long hair was styled in sausage curls, with yarn ties holding it back. We never would have thought to wear pants, much less jeans. And sneakers? I can’t say for certain, but I don’t think someone wearing sneakers would have been allowed to enter the sanctuary. It was a far cry from the “come as you are” attitude many churches have these days.
After church we’d come home to the beef roast my mom put in the oven before we left for church. You see, Sundays gave her a little break, too – even though the roast seemed like a fancy dinner to my sister and me, it was actually pretty simple for my mom to make. Roasts don’t require a lot of babysitting while they cook, and the side dishes can be put in the roasting pan to cook with the meat. Mom rarely made roast during the week, so it had that Sunday dinner feel to it. After dinner, my sister and I would play games or with our dolls. Sometimes my mom would join in. My dad would mow the lawn, or watch a football or baseball game on TV, and usually fall asleep in his chair. Sometimes we’d visit my Aunt Bertha and my Babu, my grandmother, who lived just a couple of miles from our house. When we’d come home, it was time for the Wonderful World of Disney on TV, then baths and bed, and another busy week of work and school.
The point is, Sunday was always a family day, relaxed and easy with no set agenda. In today’s society, we are always so busy, scheduled to within an inch of our sanity. We need more Sundays in our lives, not necessarily to go to church or have family dinners, if that’s not your thing. But to just slow down, take a breath, relax and enjoy life for a moment before the craziness of the work week begins. To appreciate the special people in our lives. To just be.
We need Sunday, sometime.