I love Sundays

Mornings are different on Sundays. The day develops differently. When I was an impressionable child, I thought Sundays felt different because God was watching. He was watching me in my church pew. If I was good during church and listened attentively in Sunday school – which I always was, because it came with a pretty dress – it would mean I was saved for another week.

I left behind that childish view and steadfast faith in any god, but Sundays are different. Sundays are special.
Sundays are for waking up bit by bit, sleeping in late, no rush. For some people, Sundays are for brunch, and isn’t brunch just as special as church? Maybe even more so because there are no mimosas at church. There’s something holy about filling up a table with people you love, for spending an hour or two in their company with something as simple as a meal. Talking about everything and nothing for hours.

Sundays are for making breakfast listening to the songs you claim you’ve never heard of. Sundays are for those guilty pleasure songs. Sunday is for curling up with coffee and a book in bed for hours. Sundays are for cats curling up between you and the person you love. Sundays are for slowly becoming part of the outside world, if at all. You move around quietly in the moments before open, not wanting to wake up dishes and racks.

Saturday is the day you get your work done. You do your laundry, get your groceries, run your errands. Saturdays don’t hold the restful appeal of Sunday. Saturday is all run run run run run run. So many events! So many places to be! We have to see every face on Saturday. Saturday is about movement. Saturday is about being productive. Saturday is about socializing and primping and going out! Saturdays are for fun times! Saturdays are for running everywhere and doing everything. Saturdays are for going OUT doing THINGS. There's always somewhere to be on Saturday. There's always plans for Saturday.

But not Sunday.

Sundays stand still. Sundays start slow. Sundays are for watching the day develop. Sundays are for exploring. Sundays are for aimless drives, for cups of coffee, for waking up next to the person you love and finding each other there in the rumpled bedsheets. Or you spend Sunday by yourself, relying on your own company. Sunday is quiet and accepting of that. There's no need to fill a Sunday with other people. Sundays are perfect for enjoying the company of no one. Sunday has a way of making you stop and appreciate.

Sundays are for no makeup, for glasses, for books, for naps, for spending the day watching the same movies channels play every weekend. Sunday is for those classic Disney movies you still love to watch. Sunday is for Sherlock, for friends, for time alone. Sunday is for kitties and cuddles. Sunday is the day you don't have to even think about how you look. Sunday loves you just as you are, even loves you when you’re slovenly.

Sundays are for church, if you go. Maybe you attend because you believe. Maybe you attend because you feel compelled to go. Faith is different for everyone, same as Sunday.

Sunday forgives you for your sins the night before. Sunday doesn’t judge, Sunday doesn’t care if you’re spilling your guts out in front of the toilet or hiding in bed all day or shooing someone out the door. Sunday doesn’t mind your three-days-old eyeliner or your laziness or your grouchy, insistent headache. Sunday won't judge you for the person that leaves in the morning, when neither of you even knows the other's last name.

Sundays make us appreciative of the fast pace of the week. The older you get, the shorter a day seems. Sundays are a slowdown, but a reminder that it’s starting again tomorrow. Sunday says, Enjoy this. Sunday only comes once a week.

Find your holiness where you can.