The car ride to church singing praise songs altogether,when i get to hear the two year olds voice mingle among others and she knows all the words. A three year old's prayer over snack time, his little hands folded and his eyes sqwunched up tight as he fervently thanks Jesus for his snack of graham crackers. Getting a greeting from some people who barely know you, even if its just a good morning or a subtle nod. SOmething about Sundays just make me smile.
My favorite part of Sundays are the afternoons when we go picnicking. Mom goes and gets some lunch..sometimes sandwiches, or chicken, once we even made some fried chicken just for the picnic. we go to the park, lay out te blankets in a shady spot and enjoy. Often some members of our party are too excited about the slides to eat much, but nothing is said. they go and enjoy the outdoors and the slides.
Often i just sit back and watch. It fun to watch the little ones conquer the big slide, or gain the ability to climb the chain net. Today i tried to be active with my siblings. they have been reaching out for my attention. maybe the reason we dont get along is my lack of interaction with them. Or interest even some days.
I discovered today that one of my rothers has the making of a great basebal player, and that one of my sisters only needs a little encouragment to do well. The baby of the famiyl has no fear, while the tank needs a little time to ge used to a certain situation. My mother and i are more similar then i realize sometimes.
Then when we get home...the magic is often lost as we meld back into our normal lives. The lives where hardly anyone tries to get along or be nice to each other. Myself included. Today i want to save some of the togetherness we shared. Like roling down the grassy hill because the tank wanted me to, or playing baseball with no outs for him. Watching my baby sister climb into my lap because she wants to, not because i asked her to. Seeing mom and dad unwind for a bit..even if its not for me.
Today i sat under a tree after feeling a bit hurt at something i reacted poorly to. But instead of feeling sorry fo rmyself..i tried to figure out why i felt hurt and whose fault it really was that i felt that way. After a brief moment i remembered something mom told me a loonnng time ago that i brushed off as old advice that would be no use to me.
You react the way you choose, its your choice.
And it really is that way, we choose to get angry or scared and indignant. Now that doesnt make it wrong nor does it make it right. But instead of being angry, we could choose to listen. Instead of wallowing in self pity, we could talk about why we feel hurt. I have a short temper..and a shorter fuse these days..but if I focus on why instead of I..it might help a little. I wont focus as much on how you hurt ME and more on why does this bother me so much..is it really their fault? Or am i hurt about how i felt ignored this morning? or how i got woke up? Or even just some imaginary thing i concocted in my head?
I love Sundays