Long ago, in a life before kids, Sunday mornings were a really special sort of time. I always looked forward to them. It meant sleeping in, The New York Times, coffee shops, sailing for The Mr.
Somewhere along the line, kids happened. For a while we still had a few of those things. Sleeping in went first. Then coffee shops.
Sailing is now sporadic, often replaced with home projects, lawn mowing and working over time.
The Times left after I realized I couldn't read the whole paper even in the space of a week.
I still get coffee and the paper on Sunday, but it's while my boys duel each other with plastic swords and the baby sits on my lap trying to eat the paper and spill the "foffee".
It's all good. I still long for that sleeping in time once in a while. I catch myself sometimes remembering how glorious it was to spend the day sunk in the paper, or any written thing for that matter.
But, it will come again. I'll have days in the future that are filled with books and coffee and silence and time all my own.
It will be later though, for now is the time that I've been asked to serve. To love and to serve. It's my condensed version of Christian life.
God asked us to love. Then he asked us to serve.
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