Sunday, September 15, 2013 – Snoozin’ on a Sunday Afternoon
I am one of these people whose mood is almost completely dictated by the weather. If it’s sunny, I’m happy; if it’s cloudy, I’m miserable.
But Sunday afternoons are an exception – it could be pouring outside and I wouldn’t much care. I think it’s because it was drilled into me during my youth that Sundays afternoons are for relaxing, for lazing about. So the weather is immaterial.
Sunday mornings and evening, when I was growing up, were very different. Quite busy. There were two church services in the morning at the Brethren Gospel Hall – neither of which I minded at all; and there was one in the evening – and I never questioned going. (Note: In the denomination I grew up in, the “Church” was called a Hall or a Chapel.)
But the minute we left the parking lot around noon on Sundays, life got very yummy and sleepy. When we got home, we kids changed our clothes and Mom (with help from Dad) made lunch – mushroom soup for my brother and her (I think) and Habitant soup for my Dad and me. Mom would make a stack of buttery grilled cheese sandwiches – with white bread and American cheese slices. Oh, and there would be pickles too. And homemade cookies for dessert.
Mom carefully removed the Habitant soup labels – we were saving up for what we thought would be an elegant candle holder. What we got would, today, be had for a buck at the dollar store, but I have always been easily amused (and fed.)
Because Sunday was a day of rest in my family, there was no TV permitted – except to watch Hymn Sing at 5 pm. We all did our own thing – sometimes Mom and I played board games. I was permitted to ride my bike or play quietly outside. Dad would have a snooze. I’m not sure what my brother Jim did – but he was always quiet in any event.
Our “traditional” Sunday supper was salmon-loaf or creamed salmon on toast – which we often ate while watching Hymn Sing. Dessert was Jello with coconut, or ice cream. (Yes, we saved Jello labels too.) Then on with the Sunday clothes, and back to Church. Sometimes if I was really lucky, we’d go back to someone’s house or they’d come to ours – and that meant lots more dessert and staying up past my bedtime. Decadent me.
*****
My husband’s childhood pastoral charge also had three services but Laur only had to attend one. That’s because his Dad was a rural United Church minister with three different Churches – one assembled at 9 am, one at 11 am, and one in the afternoon.
The best deal for the five brothers was when they went to the afternoon service. This meant they could have a lazy morning in their PJs before going to church. If they were really lucky, his Mom and Dad would get invited back to a farm family’s home for supper. This mean the kids from the hosting family and the Steven boys could run wild, in a rural sort of way. Things like rafter tag in the barn, running up and down the fields, visiting the farm animals, and possibly eating a good deal of a farm animal at suppertime.
Farm suppers were wonderful. Laur tells me these country wives went all out – meat, potatoes, buns, gravy, cooked vegetables, preserves, and desserts. And then, at 7 pm, Bonanza! I don’t mean a prize – I mean the cowboy show. Laur’s family didn’t have a TV – couldn’t afford one. The herd of tired and somewhat grubby kids would pile in front of the TV for an hour before heading back to the manse.
Now, I only attend one service on Sunday morning and I am always glad to see my Church family at All Peoples United; we don’t have an evening service. Sunday afternoons for me mean a walk with my hubs, reading, having a nap, and cooking lots of food (to hopefully last into the week) while listening to Cross Country Checkup. So nice!
Sadly, by Sunday evening I start getting a little knot in my stomach. It’s pure force of habit. There are no longer kids to organize for school the next day, and I’m not working so there shouldn’t be this sense of urgency. But there is.
Maybe that is why Sunday afternoons are so nice; I’m staring busyness in the face and saying, “Go to Hall!” :)
But Sunday afternoons are an exception – it could be pouring outside and I wouldn’t much care. I think it’s because it was drilled into me during my youth that Sundays afternoons are for relaxing, for lazing about. So the weather is immaterial.
Sunday mornings and evening, when I was growing up, were very different. Quite busy. There were two church services in the morning at the Brethren Gospel Hall – neither of which I minded at all; and there was one in the evening – and I never questioned going. (Note: In the denomination I grew up in, the “Church” was called a Hall or a Chapel.)
But the minute we left the parking lot around noon on Sundays, life got very yummy and sleepy. When we got home, we kids changed our clothes and Mom (with help from Dad) made lunch – mushroom soup for my brother and her (I think) and Habitant soup for my Dad and me. Mom would make a stack of buttery grilled cheese sandwiches – with white bread and American cheese slices. Oh, and there would be pickles too. And homemade cookies for dessert.
Mom carefully removed the Habitant soup labels – we were saving up for what we thought would be an elegant candle holder. What we got would, today, be had for a buck at the dollar store, but I have always been easily amused (and fed.)
Because Sunday was a day of rest in my family, there was no TV permitted – except to watch Hymn Sing at 5 pm. We all did our own thing – sometimes Mom and I played board games. I was permitted to ride my bike or play quietly outside. Dad would have a snooze. I’m not sure what my brother Jim did – but he was always quiet in any event.
Our “traditional” Sunday supper was salmon-loaf or creamed salmon on toast – which we often ate while watching Hymn Sing. Dessert was Jello with coconut, or ice cream. (Yes, we saved Jello labels too.) Then on with the Sunday clothes, and back to Church. Sometimes if I was really lucky, we’d go back to someone’s house or they’d come to ours – and that meant lots more dessert and staying up past my bedtime. Decadent me.
*****
My husband’s childhood pastoral charge also had three services but Laur only had to attend one. That’s because his Dad was a rural United Church minister with three different Churches – one assembled at 9 am, one at 11 am, and one in the afternoon.
The best deal for the five brothers was when they went to the afternoon service. This meant they could have a lazy morning in their PJs before going to church. If they were really lucky, his Mom and Dad would get invited back to a farm family’s home for supper. This mean the kids from the hosting family and the Steven boys could run wild, in a rural sort of way. Things like rafter tag in the barn, running up and down the fields, visiting the farm animals, and possibly eating a good deal of a farm animal at suppertime.
Farm suppers were wonderful. Laur tells me these country wives went all out – meat, potatoes, buns, gravy, cooked vegetables, preserves, and desserts. And then, at 7 pm, Bonanza! I don’t mean a prize – I mean the cowboy show. Laur’s family didn’t have a TV – couldn’t afford one. The herd of tired and somewhat grubby kids would pile in front of the TV for an hour before heading back to the manse.
Now, I only attend one service on Sunday morning and I am always glad to see my Church family at All Peoples United; we don’t have an evening service. Sunday afternoons for me mean a walk with my hubs, reading, having a nap, and cooking lots of food (to hopefully last into the week) while listening to Cross Country Checkup. So nice!
Sadly, by Sunday evening I start getting a little knot in my stomach. It’s pure force of habit. There are no longer kids to organize for school the next day, and I’m not working so there shouldn’t be this sense of urgency. But there is.
Maybe that is why Sunday afternoons are so nice; I’m staring busyness in the face and saying, “Go to Hall!” :)