Sunday School.

Good morning, darling! And happy Sunday to you. I hope you're doing whatever brings you

comfort and joy on this last Sunday of October. Sundays can be fabulous days, now that we're all grown up. But when we were younger, they were perhaps sometimes a bit more harrowing. Do you remember ever having gone to Sunday School? I do. It was a rather torturous event. Getting up early, getting dressed up in "churchy" clothes. (Because people used to actually get dressed up for things like church!). Sitting at a long folding table next to an assortment of other bleary-eyed children in a church annex building, under the tutelage of a generous adult (or at least an adolescent) armed with a special display board and pieces of felt in the shapes of various elements and characters required to tell the bible story du jour.

It was kind of an episode of Captain Kangaroo. But without a man in a bear suit.

It's not that I think Sunday School cannot be a positive and uplifting experience. I'm sure legions of

children, including myself, got (and get) something out of it ~ for me, a romantic obsession with "felt boards" seems to have been the biggest take-away. I can also now see that, despite my inner and sometimes outer protestations about rising early and getting dressed-up in Sunday finery, the other best part of the experience was, ironically...getting dressed up. Having a day that felt "special." That feeling of specialness was wonderful, even if I was often still in a semi-coma and wished to have remained in my jammies.

I may not recall how many brothers Jedediah had, but I know that I love felt boards and storytelling, and the fact that I feel really kick-ass whilst wearing a dress. So the Sunday School experience did teach me things.

Most of us who attended Sunday School did so only because we were being dragged/ prodded in that

general direction against our will by a well-meaning and sometimes harried parent or two, who believed we required more instruction than we were already receiving five days of the week, in

"regular" school. And that, perhaps, in addition to our acquisition of felt-boarding skills, our souls would be saved.

But now, we are grown-ups ~ with our inner child still around to add fun to the mix. Hooray! And we get to create our own rituals that feel special and bring us a feeling of contentment and delight.

And that may or may not include leaving the house on a Sunday morning!

What are your Sunday pleasures? I love to hang out in something cozy, soft and comfy...

and listen to music that makes me want to dance. In fact, many times, I can be found dancing around my living room. Much to the chagrin of my cats. And any overnight guests. Right now, for instance, I'm listening to vintage Tom Jones...but up next it could be belly-dancing music or a church hymn. I like to mix it up.

When my husband Drew was alive, we had a great Sunday music ritual with our children that filled our mornings (and often afternoons) with hours of Sinatra and The Beatles. As you might imagine, no one in the house was NOT dancing. Including the cats. (It's hard not to feel the spirit of something divine moving within you whilst listening to Fly Me to the Moon...I mean, really.)

We must fill our Sunday mornings with things that replenish us and awaken our inner joy. Things that

make us feel gratitude for the gift that is life.

And if that means dancing around the kitchen to Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On" as you make another round of hot cocoa...Hallelujah, sister!

And now, I shall bid you a gentle adieu so I can whip up some...eggs (see previous blog/ musings to

learn more about that topic) ~

Sandi xo

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