Sunday has always had so much potential. During this 100 day challenge to focus on the real in life, I am seeing where Sunday can step forward as the real hero and, during this time, become a real Sabbath.
I have always treasured attending church services on Sunday and during those few years where, for some reason or other, we felt unable or unwelcome to attend services, I felt compelled to mark the day as special in some way. I have had fleeting thoughts that I should resent the sheer waste of hours that a later service ( not ending until after noon!) creates in a day. However, I am able to relax in the assurance that the inability to start anything that resembles “work” before leaving for services is of greater benefit that any small amount of time I might save for later.
Of course, I attend a church that uses a prayer book and hymnal so that I can enjoy saying /singing words written by poets, scholars and artists who took special care to make my experience with the ancient texts a meaningful one. A small habit I brought from the very low church side of Protestantism is to keep a small book in my purse so that I can jot notes during the sermon. (An aside, I take care to write slowly and carefully in my best cursive because I am concerned that I will lose my cursive in this world so unfriendly to handwriting).
Quote from this week’s sermon:
“You do not have to save the world, yourself or anyone else. God already did.” And a reassurance that engaging the true in my life is faithfulness.
So, a blessing on the 100 day challenge to engage the true in my life.
Sunday also offers the lovely chance to arrive at a dinner party with friends later in the evening in a rested and attentive state of mind. Nothing against the Friday release of steam or the Saturday continuation of fun, but the Sunday evening dinner has a special glow. We took a copy of the New York Times for our hosts, having learned that they currently depend on digital news, so that we could talk about the news of the day by showing each other photographs and reading aloud from the pages we were each holding. Our friends have a stereo, so we took along a stack of vinyl albums and I noted the attention required to slip from the table and turn over or replace the album. We ate a loaf of bread cooked by our host, I drank a glass of beer our host had brewed and we both enjoyed the vegetarian meal so much we neither mentioned meat on the ride home. The taste of real friendship was captured completely in the handmade salt cellar that graced the table.
Designed by a pottery artist that lives in South Austin and featuring undulations of red and aqua vines/wings that held up the offering of salt, this small but practical piece of art embodies the value of friendship. Taking something that is necessary, our connection to others, and elevating it to something sacred, a friendship, this is the kind of salt I need more of in my life this spring.
I promised a small taste of the patterns I am working on. Here is start of where I am heading with the pattern.
First I get the feather scattered, then I start playing with the background.
Then I rearrange and adjust the scale.
Then I start fussing with the colors.