Sunday

It's Sunday. It's a good time to simply rest up and not get involved in any productive work. On Sundays I try to ignore things around the house that need to be repaired or cleaned up. I usually wake up to the sound of my neighbor mowing his lawn. If he starts at 8:00, I'm glad he woke me, because I need to be up by 8 to be ready for church on time. Sometimes he starts a little earlier. I don't really mind.

I mind it more if Barb and I are having our dinner on the back porch, and some lawn-mowing company roars in to mow a nearby lawn. That usually doesn't happen on Sundays, but more and more often the commercial mowers are out mowing on Sundays.

It's quiet today, however. As I wrIte it's evening and the shadows are long. Everything has a slightly golden caste to it. Soon the sky will be red-orange briefly, then turn gray and the leaves will appear black before it. That only lasts a few minutes. Then the sky will be dark and the leaves will disappear, and it will be dark. The night sounds will begin, and Sunday will almost be gone. But I refuse to think about tomorrow and the things that are already on my to-do list. I want to enjoy Sunday, and all that God gives me for my day of rest.