Sundays today are very different than the Sundays of the past. When your husband is a pastor, as mine was for quite a few years of our marriage, Sundays are shared days. It’s an understood. For a pastor, Sunday is the biggest day of the week. For church members, Sunday is the day when they unashamedly and often relentlessly bide for the pastor’s time and ear. Whether that’s good or bad is irrelevant to my life at this point.
Today though, today Sunday morning was my time with my husband. We rode our bikes while we talked. We talked about God and our relationship with him. We talked about our relationship with each other. We discussed our children. It was a beautiful morning, weather wise. I can’t imagine doing anything else this morning.
I’m curious as to how much and how many we’re truly responsible for. And who trumps who? What is ultimately the most important? Sure, it’s a given. Any espoused adult has certain responsibilities and requirements to fulfill. And we also tout priorities: 1. God 2. Spouse 3. Children. Yet I think I’m finally realizing it’s alright to be selfish in regards to time with my husband. Honestly it’s not selfish. It’s how it needs to be. For me to fully understand him [though to fully understand might be impossible!]. For him to hear me and grasp my needs.
Sundays were once stressful and the source of much angst. To my relief, they currently are not. Riding my bike, talking with my husband, enjoying the beauty of our surroundings. That to me, now, is worship. In a way I would have once thought strange and even a sacrilege. Yet God is there, with me. Refreshing me and reminding me of what really matters.
I remind myself we’re always in a season. What I need today may not be what I need in the next season. Yet it might be.
Upon a Sunny Day 