{"id":12982,"date":"2010-05-05T15:55:00","date_gmt":"2010-05-05T19:55:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/?p=12982"},"modified":"2011-08-18T04:07:54","modified_gmt":"2011-08-18T08:07:54","slug":"sundays","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/sundays\/","title":{"rendered":"Sundays."},"content":{"rendered":"<div style=\"text-align: center;\">One Sunday morning. I awoke&nbsp;less than refreshed.&nbsp; It had been one of those nights&nbsp;that all parents everywhere can relate to.&nbsp;&nbsp;My children had more nightmares than I had minutes of REM.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">I sat in bed and thought about what my day would entail.&nbsp; <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">&#8220;Talking loudly&#8221; to get everyone dressed and ready to be at our 8:30am meeting.&nbsp; <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">Shifting through my drawers trying to find one pair of&nbsp;nylons without a run. <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">Picking up endless Cheerios as they fly through the pews like manna from Heaven.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">Whispering to&nbsp;my&nbsp;princess&nbsp;to please please&nbsp;stop&nbsp;asking the Bishop for more &#8220;bread treaties.&#8221;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">More walking and weight lifting in Sacrament&nbsp;than&nbsp;a treadmill workout, <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">going back and forth for <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">bathroom time, <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">diaper changes,&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">drink breaks, <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">and necessary emergency foyer visits. <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\"><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">I thought to myself, <\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\"><em><strong>Am I crazy?&nbsp; <\/strong><\/em><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\"><em><strong>Why do I love Sundays?<\/strong><\/em><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\"><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">A little list began compiling in my head:<\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">I get to dress up.<\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.stressmarket.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/09\/woman-in-high-heels.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"400\" src=\"http:\/\/www.stressmarket.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/09\/woman-in-high-heels.jpg\" tt=\"true\" width=\"240\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">I get to <i>play<\/i> dress up with my &#8220;dolls&#8221;.<\/div>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/_OxFi9LaSt_o\/S-FiTq0lloI\/AAAAAAAAFpE\/OB10aT6uWjQ\/s1600\/accessories.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"367\" src=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/_OxFi9LaSt_o\/S-FiTq0lloI\/AAAAAAAAFpE\/OB10aT6uWjQ\/s400\/accessories.jpg\" tt=\"true\" width=\"400\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<div><\/div>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/_OxFi9LaSt_o\/S-GOW573_lI\/AAAAAAAAFpU\/5-JYPmJLzhA\/s1600\/accessories1.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"267\" src=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/_OxFi9LaSt_o\/S-GOW573_lI\/AAAAAAAAFpU\/5-JYPmJLzhA\/s400\/accessories1.jpg\" tt=\"true\" width=\"400\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\">&#8230;and then hang out in pj&#8217;s the rest of the day!<\/div>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/_OxFi9LaSt_o\/S-Gaj_6IzTI\/AAAAAAAAFpc\/Fzups0nr_EQ\/s1600\/ethanphoto_3.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"640\" src=\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/_OxFi9LaSt_o\/S-Gaj_6IzTI\/AAAAAAAAFpc\/Fzups0nr_EQ\/s640\/ethanphoto_3.jpg\" tt=\"true\" width=\"480\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\">I &#8220;have to&#8221; read my favorite book. <\/div>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.annuitech.com\/ms\/ftp\/Jim\/GeographyBOM.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"340\" src=\"http:\/\/www.annuitech.com\/ms\/ftp\/Jim\/GeographyBOM.jpg\" tt=\"true\" width=\"400\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">Roast Beef and Potatoes is an unbreakable tradition. <\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/whenimthin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/02\/pot-roast.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" src=\"http:\/\/whenimthin.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/02\/pot-roast.jpg\" tt=\"true\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">No dessert on Sunday would be a sin.<\/div>\n<p><\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/04\/NFFcoconutcake.jpg\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" height=\"266\" src=\"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/04\/NFFcoconutcake.jpg\" tt=\"true\" width=\"400\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">&nbsp;I get to teach children about God.<\/div>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\">I chat on the phone with loved ones. <\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><\/div>\n<p>Lee drives.&nbsp; I love that.<\/p>\n<div class=\"separator\" style=\"clear: both; text-align: center;\"><\/div>\n<p>I spend&nbsp;more time with my&nbsp;family than any other day.<\/p>\n<p>I receive chocolate chip cookies from guilt-ridden visiting and home teachers.<\/p>\n<p>I get to see other friends who believe the&nbsp;same things I do.<\/p>\n<p>I hear beautiful music all day.<\/p>\n<p>Once this mental list was completely formed, <br \/>I realized that <strong>none of those reasons<\/strong>&nbsp;were really why I love Sundays.&nbsp; <br \/>They were reasons why I like Sundays, but not why&nbsp;I love Sundays.&nbsp; <br \/>I love Sundays because worshipping God is the right thing to do and it feels so good inside.&nbsp; It makes me feel His Spirit all week.&nbsp; It&#8217;s one easy way to show God how much I love him.&nbsp; I go for Him.<\/p>\n<p>It seems unfair though, because God always gives back more.<br \/>&nbsp;I have often&nbsp;heard that young parents don&#8217;t get anything out of church because they are so busy with all little children and&nbsp;babies&nbsp;entail, but that is untrue in my book.&nbsp; Every time I go to church, God has fed me.&nbsp; Sometimes I am in the mother&#8217;s room changing a diaper and even though I haven&#8217;t heard a word of the talks that day, a sentence over the intercom will hold my heart.&nbsp; Or&nbsp;sometimes I&nbsp;am in primary sitting in between two&nbsp;rambunctious eleven year old boys and the primary song will answer an unasked prayer in my soul.&nbsp; Once in awhile it is even through my child recapping what he learned in Sunbeams.&nbsp; Somehow, every week with three kids (three and under) and less than adequate REM sleep, I leave&nbsp;Sunday enriched and rested.&nbsp;&nbsp;And I can&#8217;t explain it.&nbsp; I have to remind myself,&nbsp; &#8220;<em>He fed the 5000.&nbsp; So why not me!&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p>I&#8217;m not saying there hasn&#8217;t been Sundays where&nbsp;I was frazzled and all I could say to&nbsp;Lee was, &#8220;Get the kids in the car.&#8221;&nbsp; Or days where I have sat through Sunday School wanting so badly to hear answers to my prayers but instead just receiving a less than mediocre version of The Fall complete with inappropriate comments about Kolob and dinosaurs&nbsp;&#8230;the whole time I frantically trying to get&nbsp;Boston from pulling Sister So-and-So&#8217;s leg hair.&nbsp; <em>There have been those days<\/em> and I&#8217;d be full-on lying if I told you I have never left church a <em>little <\/em>early because of them.&nbsp; &nbsp;But&nbsp;even on those toughie days, I can look back&nbsp;and say &#8220;Yes, that was a really difficult&nbsp;day but <em>that one thing was said<\/em> <strong>or<\/strong> <em>that thought came into my head<\/em> and that&nbsp;made&nbsp;a difference.&#8221;&nbsp; It doesn&#8217;t make sense, but it&#8217;s true.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;I have found that when I keep&nbsp;my Sabbath Day holy as best as I can,&nbsp; my week is smoother.&nbsp; My life less rushed.&nbsp; My&nbsp;Mondays through Saturdays&nbsp;sweeter.&nbsp; I have found that my God is never looking for perfection.&nbsp; &nbsp;He isn&#8217;t looking for quiet folded arms from children who are too young to do it.&nbsp; He isn&#8217;t looking for copious Sacrament notes from a young mother or father.&nbsp; He&nbsp;doesn&#8217;t even mind&nbsp;if I call my&nbsp;visiting teach-ees at the end of the month.&nbsp; He just wants my effort &#8211; the best I can do &#8211; my widow&#8217;s mite.&nbsp; And that&#8217;s what I&#8217;m giving Him.&nbsp; <\/p>\n<p>I do&nbsp;love Sundays. <\/p>\n<div style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/signatures.mylivesignature.com\/54487\/213\/1B769B0C9152F3A8AEB6C0B8BFF46123.png\" imageanchor=\"1\" style=\"clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;\"><img decoding=\"async\" border=\"0\" src=\"http:\/\/signatures.mylivesignature.com\/54487\/213\/1B769B0C9152F3A8AEB6C0B8BFF46123.png\" style=\"background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<div align=\"right\" style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.mylivesignature.com\/\" style=\"clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\" target=\"_blank\"><\/a><\/p>\n<div align=\"right\" style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\">\n<div style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\"><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div align=\"right\" style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\">\n<div style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\"><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\">\n<div style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\"><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\">\n<div style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\"><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div style=\"text-align: right;\"><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div style=\"border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;\"><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>One Sunday morning. I awoke&nbsp;less than refreshed.&nbsp; It had been one of those nights&nbsp;that all parents everywhere can relate to.&nbsp;&nbsp;My children had more nightmares than I had minutes of REM.&nbsp;&nbsp; I sat in bed and thought about what my day would entail.&nbsp; &#8220;Talking loudly&#8221; to get everyone dressed and ready to be at our 8:30am [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1034,1024],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12982","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-lewis-family-2","category-inspiration-and-life-lessons"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12982","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12982"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12982\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12982"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12982"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.loraleelewis.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12982"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}