Sunday Rest Remembered

Reading Nancy Drew mysteries, walking the dangerous black pipe across the creek, crawling through a larger pipe...these are a few drops from pails full of memories carried from ages eight or nine to now. I love every one of them. In those years, I enjoyed simple things while day-dreaming. I loved Sundays, too.

Sundays stand out with their beginnings... the quick dash to reach church on time, with my parents. After church, home to eat. Then, free time totally without guilt over "doing nothing." I would stay in and listen to radio or read...or both at same time, or explore just beyond our house in the woods that hid a truly low-warbling creek. I knew its bends, wide and narrow sandy places, and the large, fallen tree limbs that stayed. The woods were completely wild, natural, and unswept places.

About three or four o'clock on Sunday afternoon, my parents would take a drive to who knew where. I often chose to go along, expecting the usual stop for ice cream. Later, before supper or after, my mother would take a walk, our spaniel dog and striped cat following in line. I would do...whatever. Nothing important needed doing.

We rested on Sundays, even Mother, who had prepared ahead. We enjoyed that one day different from all the others of the week. I'm enjoying now just remembering and writing about it. With a few easy clicks, I can share it online. Otherwise, today I'll do no texting, emailing, or internet searching. I'll just rest: watch another March Madness game and eat ice cream with love of my life, then walk Lucie-dog, and whatever else....

Sunday = the Good News + rest.

Follow Your Dreams, for Goodness' Sake

2014

"I keep thinking or daydreaming about trying this or studying that, but I don't see the point. It's outside my practical life. So, what would be the point of following ideas?"

Thinking about "the point" comes naturally to those of us who over-analyze. This is clear to a young girl, Mary, of the children's classic, The Secret Garden. Mary wants to restore a long-neglected garden that lies dying behind a locked gate. Yet, she knows that grown ups might disapprove, based on fears or the past. "What's the point?"

In the secret garden, Mary's strong desire is reinforced by young Dickon, a new friend. Eventually, Mary's actions rebound beyond what she or Dickon could have expected. Their adventure  mysteriously connects to a lonely and extremely unlikeable boy, in fact the end-point of the story.

I recently unlocked a long-delayed dream of my own that involves much reading and study. It truly is at times a secret garden, adding color and beauty with much labor and digging. It has the encouragement of the one closest to me: my husband has never asked "Why? or "What"s the point?"

I know that lingering daydreams whisper a call for fulfillment. That's the point, one good enough to follow. What about your whispering daydreams? Can you pursue them without going into debt or somehow stepping on others' dreams? If yes, then why not follow that call, for goodness' sake?

March Month

2014
I am an anticipator of good things in March, the month of spring's renewal. March is a month of family birthdays, which makes it a month of wonder in the past. My mother, the last of five children, entered the scene on March 8 many years ago, so that's very important date to me. Two of my grandsons were born in March. March can awaken and change your life...bringing you in or moving you about.

March has been a month for big moves in our family, and this year is no different. Exciting for one young man going west this very day.

Season of Lent, too, of great anticipation, is March. Season of loving sacrifice. March is ever bringing in significance!