The importance of Sunday is something that is often never given a second thought. In a world bent on going, and going, Sunday was our refuge. It is the Lord’s Day and meant for resetting ourselves before the traditional workweek. It has long been a day of rest and reflection. The simple nature of Sunday for decades served as a binding agent that held us together as families, communities, and individuals. It carried a certain reverence that the other days on the calendar lacked. We would be farther along as a society if we still treated it as such.
Monday through Friday was nose to the grindstone for us growing up and into the working years of young adulthood. Saturday was for catching up on home projects or farm chores we had neglected in favor of putting a paycheck first. Sunday was a day to sleep in just a few extra minutes, with sunshine breaking over the tops of the oaks up the holler. Streams of light sliced through the blinds, glistening through dust particles floating wistfully around the room.
Once up, it was creased khakis and button-ups that smelled of starch. Bustling out the door to pile into whatever station wagon we had at the time, it was off to Sunday service. Church was always like a reunion. It was a replenishment of heart and soul. Once services ended, the parents mingled while us kids negotiated plans with seasoned skill to go home with buddies. At whatever house we succeeded in landing, we played like it was our last day, backyard football, archery, pond fishing, wrestling, and anything else imaginable.
A huge Sunday supper was guaranteed. The spreads would shame even the most touted homestyle restaurants. Heavy meats, thick sides that stuck to the ribs, and overly sweet desserts were the norm. Old timers told stories. Us youngsters listened, hanging on every word, soaking it in with celebrity-type awe.
Sunday evening centered around Sunday night service. It was often a barn burner and the final punctuation mark on a trying week. Leaving with a full heart, it was home to wind down. A late snack and recap of the day before crawling under a cool, worn sheet capped the day off.
While by all technical aspects Sunday is just another day, it is much more than that. Sunday reunited families. Sunday cleansed the soul. Sunday was where Grandpa showed a grandchild how to tie a cinch knot. Sunday was where recipes were handed down. Sunday was for the kids. Sunday food was just a little more special around a crowded table. Sunday’s clock moved slower than its stated sixty seconds per minute. Sunday may have been the last stand of what we were built on.
We are all diminished by its fading importance.
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