This was DH and me yesterday (Sunday) morning thirty minutes before church was to start. He said, "I can be ready in thirty minutes, can you?" Me, "Well, I can try," foolishly thinking wishes always come true. Another glance at the kitchen clock made me realize that it was hopeless. It would take a miracle and someone quicker than me to get myself ready to go out in public in that amount of time.
At first I thought I might be feeling guilty, that I could be commiting an unforgiveable sin. Yet, I believe that God understands that we occasionally need a complete day off to get our rest. DH had a rough week driving around the state, sometimes four appointments in one day, to do in-home sales. He was ready for a day of rest. Going to play with our grandchildren the evening before added to the week's accumulated fatigue. There's hardly a moment to take a breather when we're running after two pre-schoolers. Okay, enough excuses!
I enjoy the whole Sunday morning experience because it's the only time to worship with a congregation of other Christians. It's encouraging to know that others are enthusiastic in their love for God and in glorifying the one who has brought us through another week. Worship prepares us to anticipate the next week knowing we're not alone in our walk with Christ. I need that affirmation and encouragement to remind me of my purpose as I wander here on earth. Where else can we experience that kind of fellowship?
After realizing that what I was feeling wasn't guilt, I made the best of the rest of the day. Hubby and I listened to a local church service on T.V.--not the same as being there. To forget my sense of loss at not having fellowshipped with other Christians I read for a couple of hours on our back porch where the sun was finally shining after several cloudy days with almost eight inches of rain soaking us from Friday through Saturday. After a couple of naps and a couple of light meals I was okay, but I'm certain that next Sunday I'll set my alarm and get up when it goes off! No more of this foolishness.