I humbly confess my attitude towards Sunday morning (the part prior to church, I mean) is usually more in line with the title of a U2 song that substitutes a red expletive for the word “bless-ed”. This disturbs me.
"I want my boys to love Sunday, to find it a peaceful, pleasant day, when they can rest from common study and play, yet enjoy quiet pleasures, and learn, in simple ways, lessons more important than any taught in school.
Do you understand me?" she asked, watching Nat's attentive face.
"You mean to be good?" he said, after hesitating a minute.
"Yes; to be good, and to love to be good."
Louisa May Alcott, Little Men.
I am touched and inspired and challenged anew by so much in these beloved books now that I read them to my own children, as a woman. A wife. A mother. It stirs up great desire in me to be lovely and loving. To stop getting annoyed by the little arrows with bitter tips that lodge themselves annoyingly into the cracks and crevasses of my best intentions.
I had just read this the other day and it invoked one of those sentimental “my heart is welling up with warm thoughts” moments. Oh the day dreaming I did. I planned to awake Sunday morning with the sweetest intentions to make it special. Fresh cinnamon buns for breakfast, everything orderly, cheerful, romantic, blessed. Rather we were rudely awakened by the boys hard at play in the room next to ours, climbing the walls like monkeys and roaring like lions. Two weeks it has been that we call to the boys to “keep it quiet” and be respectful to others upon waking. Two weeks, every morning, the same chaos greets us from the room next door.
That got me out on the wrong side of the bed right there, and it went from bad to worse. I went in to get the boys dressed, opened their sock drawer to find approximately six stray dirty socks (none of them matching) thrown haphazardly into the mix. Something again, which I had harped on over and over in recent weeks. Stray socks go in the laundry not back in the drawer. I could go on. And on. But I won’t. You get the point.
It was not the best of mornings, but it was also not the worst of mornings. I caught myself, and I tried. I really tried. And I will continue to try. Because I really do want my kids to have sweet memories of this sweet Lord’s day, this Sabbath rest, this elusive Sunday, bless-ed Sunday.
12 comments:
Good for you for having such noble intentions! Keep it up:)
hey, that sounds like all the mornings when I plan the night before that I'm going to get up *early* and run (LOL) Oh, the good intentions that I have...
Hang in there - it can't stay bad forever, especially when you're inspired to make it better, right?
Then the day comes when you can't get them out of bed--teenager years. The good part is that for the most part they all wash their own clothes - yeah!!
Keep on being faithful. Your intentions will prevail.
What about giving them some special early-morning activity that takes place downstairs?? Make it a challenge to be super secret spies that sneak down to accomplish some spy-task?!? Praying for creative solutions and a slow-to-speak spirit!! (TOTALLY been there)
The Sunday Scramble...it still gets me, and I don't have small children at home anymore.
What's up with that?
Maybe satan just starts snatching at whatever he can...socks,us... on Sunday mornings.
By the way, I love your post about how an idol is anything that we allow into our heart which is God's place of residence.
Your words and Swindoll's words touched me.
Idols. Even those unassuming, nonthreatening ones.
They gotta go.
So that I can go to Him. Hear Him. Feel Him. His breath on my life.
Hope you have a Merry Christmas.
Sweet dreams.
Loved hearing about your little family and the oh so familiar things that transpire on a Sunday morning (o:
It's the real world and your a real mom trying ( and doing a good job) to keep Jesus in your house(and everyones heart) everyday.
*Sigh* so it isn't just me?
What is it about Sundays that brings out the worst in my family? It's so hard to get out the door without snapping at everyone. We started preparing the night before, setting alarms earlier, etc., yet still...and this is where we forgive each other. I know our efforts will pay off eventually. It's so difficult to inspire our children to be peaceful. Yet this is where our own actions teach much louder than our words, and the results take much longer to see. It's so easy to yell when we see the immediate effect, but difficult to trust that our example is teaching, when it takes so long to give us the desired results.
I was going to tell you about the series on Spiritual Warfare our Pastor is preaching, but it sounds so "dire." Although when he said it would be nice if there was a knock at the door and there stood a little demon with his pitchfork announcing his intentions to mess up all the plans you had for doing things well, I felt like yelling "Amen!". Instead of doing that the enemy seems to like to sneak up on us in the "little things" and just discourage us.
So....I won't say any of that. I'll just say I completely understand and I know that there is grace.
Have a wonderful Christmas dear one!
I love this post, not the less because of the U2 reference. I can so relate to your moment of inspiration and bliss... your heart welling up with the vision, the wish to be That Lovely Mother about which you read. And then those moments of clash with your own reality... and sin.
We will always, in this life, bounce between the two to some degree...
May we all become more the Spirit-filled mother of the God-given vision in 2010, as Christ leads us!
Merry Christmas.
good reminder. just last week i was sick to my stomach as we got into the car "what did my kids look like" "were they all dressed Christmasy?" "why did i neglect to bring a refreshment?" Other rediculous thoughts plagued my mind making me sick to my stomach. When we got to church, I discovered it was a fancy potluck to go with the Christmas program. I didn't bring anything (more things to obscess over). ON and on untill i realized that my sharp words, carrying on and such do not give the kids a happy memory of going to church. Its a stress filled occasion that becomes no fun for anybody. I'm so glad you posted, cuz i was convicted (then and now) and it is such a good reminder to us all!! I will stop worrying, nagging and obscessing so much and throw it all up!! That pot luck, by the way, had so much food nobody could have possibly eaten it all and it didn't matter that i hadn't brought anything and nobody cared at all. They were just happy to see our kids since most of them are older people with grandchildren far away.
Hey sister...blessings and Merry Christmas!
Post a Comment