Sundays used to be a time for nothing but church, food and sleep (and a movie or get-together after evening service, but that is beside the point). I would only consider it a good Sunday afternoon if I could sleep the entire time.
That is, until I married a man who doesn’t hold that view. Sure, we took an hour nap – you can’t say you’re a Baptist if sleep doesn’t play some part in the day. Then he got up. Boo. I don’t want to miss out on any fun! So I got up.
There was no fun. Sitting on the couch.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
“I thought I might go to the gym. Do you want to go?”
“No. It’s Sunday. Buuuut if you want to go without me, then go ahead.” (pitiful martyr attitude)
That poor man. He had no idea what it would be like those three short months ago…
It was beautiful. The sun was shining, the birds singing. A walk was decided upon. I change. We go outside. Oh, but for my man, not just any walk; no, we hop on the bike to get to our walking destination. A warm day, no place to be except where you are, a motorcycle, and a ripped man to hold onto??? Ummm, have I said that I am blessed?
We found a dirt road and train tracks to walk on and an abandoned barn. But that will be another blessing for another day…for it will happen again. We decided so in our life plan of normalcy.