That's what I was told in Catholic school. Growing up it was. At my house, on Sunday, we went to church, to the bakery then home to linger all morning eating crumb buns and reading the paper.
I grew up and got married. Sunday wasn't such a day of rest anymore. To my husband Sunday was like Saturday, another day to get work done around the house. He may have slept in a little later, but by noon he was working outside or in his shop.
Now, at 55, Sundays are a bit quieter for him. He sleeps a little later, lingers over coffee and the newspaper, maybe does a task or two, but at some point in the afternoon he sits down and rests. Sometimes he even falls asleep. It is really nice. Now, I can rest too.
Today, I am grateful that my husband is slowing down. Life is good. Real good. It's nice to stop and just rest in it once in a while.
Sunday is a day of rest. Thank You, God.
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