Oh day of rest and gladness

Really. No day of rush and madness this time.

This has been probably the first truly restful Sunday morning I have ever experienced. Well, maybe not ever, but certainly since having kids. There's always quite a scramble. But today the boys have a minor sniffle. Not enough to slow them down any, but enough to make us think twice about spreading their germs around the church nursery.

So despite staying up very late last night, chatting and catching up---a blissfully restful start to our Sabbath---Andy got up early, and was all ready to dash out the door in time for the 8am service. The idea was that I could then go to the 9:45 service while he stayed home with the kids. But just as he was walking out the door, it occured to me that it would be very hectic to try to arrange a baby-swap in the short time between the services. "Wouldn't you rather just stay for a nice, relaxed pancake breakfast? Then I'll just stay home with the kids while you go to the 9:45."

And so we did just that. The house was sparkling clean, since Justy came over yesterday and took the kids while Andy and I got stuff done. And oh, it felt good. Andy read Scripture aloud while I whipped together some wholesomely yummy multi-grain pancakes, and cut up a platterful of fruit. "I AM the Resurrection and the Life. He who believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live."

And then, after a short interlude to clean up the nail polish Isaiah dumped everywhere, and another short interlude to clean up the carpet after Tembo's blowout, we sat down to a leisurely breakfast. Sunlight streamed through the window, setting the freshly mopped floor aglow, highlighting the inviting curls of steam rising from our coffee cups. Nathan insisted on some coffee in his milk, an indulgence that perhaps I will regret. Isaiah was quite delighted with the hearty, corn-filled pancakes, and maple syrup. September just beamed from her high chair.

I didn't make quite enough pancakes, which turned out to be all for the best, since it turned our attention to the strawberries and oranges. Had there been more, we would have simply eaten our fill of pancakes, but as it was, we had quite a nice balance of pancakes and fruit.

There was plenty of time for the meal, and just as it felt like it was time to get up from the table, the clock announced that indeed, it was time for Andy to leave for church. He had, of course, been ready to step out the door since quarter to eight. So he quickly changed into a shirt that was not covered in spit-up, and left for church, where I presume he is tranquilly enjoying a service without interruption.

And I am home with the children, reading The Idiot. Perhaps reading a novel is a profane occupation of a Sunday morning, but not Dostoyevsky. It was remembering The Brothers Karamazov, I think, that brought that particular passage to Andy's mind this morning. "Lazarus come forth!" I hear the words of Christ resounding much more richly for having heard them in the voice of Alyosha. And now this morning, between the diaper changes and sopping up the spilled coffee, I am bathing in Prince Myshkin's holiness and mercy.

And oh, it is good.