Most people consider Sunday as a day of rest but that’s kind of gone the way of the dinosaur for me. As the wife of a new pastor, Sundays are an incredibly busy day for us with Sunday School, worship service, and any after-church activities taking up three-fourths of our day sometimes. I tend to have very busy mornings, even before we leave the house, with Elizabeth’s breakfast, getting her and myself dressed, dealing with food if there’s a potluck after church, etc. There are some Sundays when I do in two hours what perhaps a lot of people get done in a full morning’s work.

Then, after church, there’s usually lunch with the family and then home for a few hours of playtime before supper and the bedtime routine for a particular little girl. After that, I tend to collapse, exhausted, onto the couch and fall into quiet and stillness for the remainder of the night until my own inevitable bedtime. The TV drones on in the background, mostly ignored, as I try to find something to exercise my mind and achieve some sort of fun, I guess, amidst the work of the day. I never thought that I would long for those days when I was a little girl and my mother would force me to lie down and nap after lunch on a Sunday. What I would give for someone to a.) give me the opportunity/time for that and b.) force me to do it now. I suppose I just never realized how busy a pastor and his family could be on a Sunday, what is almost everyone else’s ‘day of rest’. Sundays exhaust me more than almost any day of the week anymore, between getting my family out the door, wrangling my very energetic eleven-month-old daughter, and taking care of my family at home.

But the fact is that I still love Sundays. I love being in church with my little family, listening to my husband preach, and spending time with like-minded people whose lives show such happiness and fulfillment. Even though I count myself one exhausted woman by the end of the day as I write this, I still love Sundays.