I drove through sunshine in a day no longer deep in winter; which bore the hidden promise of the spring-soon-coming. Spring waiting, deep in drab brown fields and bare branched trees; the Jack in the Box spring that soon will burst in green bud and birdsong and creeping things.
I drove to church and sat among the people. I sat among the people and I sang. I stood and raised my hands to heaven in surrender and in praise. I worshipped him with heart and soul and mind.
At home a pork roast filled the house with fragrance. And the long pine table decked in cranberry cloth lay waiting; waiting for family to gather all around it.
And soon enough, three generations filled the places. And a child gave thanks in stumbling words for church and food and said "Amen." And dishes passed from hand to hand. Plates filled with mashed potatoes, corn and broccoli and peas. What bounty.
And then the bargaining. "How many more bites?"
"One each of mashed potatoes corn and meat!"
Cups of tea and coffee. Sleepy parents and grandparents lolled in comfy chairs while children played.
Conversation punctuated by sporadic peacemaking while the hours ticked away.
And I was so grateful for the simple pleasures of this Sabbath day.