I used to love Sunday mornings. Sunday morning was my time. I would let Pandora shuffle through random gospel songs as I leisurely ate my breakfast. I’d put my feet up and watch Bobby Jones gospel, and as the credits began to roll, I’d start getting ready for church.
That is not at all what my Sunday s look like now. Gone are the breakfast and the TV time. If I’m lucky, I remember to grab a powdered sugar donut as I run out the door. (If I’m not lucky, I find myself digging through the diaper bag for a forgotten piece of candy, or a few stray chips)
This past Sunday was beyond hectic. Due to late night fireworks, all three kids needed baths. We had gone swimming so my hair was in a ponytail. My husband had to be at church early, so I was on my own. I finally got in the shower about the time I should have been leaving my house. As I rushed through my morning routine, the baby stood in the doorway and screamed at the top of her lungs. The older kids were yelling about some video games… And I was a frazzled mess.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized how much I needed a few minutes alone. (Still haven’t gotten them)I missed the time and space I had created for myself on Sunday mornings.
We are a busy family of five. There is always something to do, a meeting to attend, and laundry to put away. But for the next few weeks, I want to focus on little ways to find peace in the midst of the chaos that is our every day lives. It is my hope to rediscover my own sense of sanctuary. I don’t think Sunday mornings will work for me, but I am determined to find something that will work.