Memories do fade, but some stick with you. Sunday mornings are times that I remember, and I’m not talking about church. Now, before you start to judge in any way, the experiences that I have and have had at church stick with me also. But not all of them. Think about it. Be honest. What do you remember from past sermons? What do you carry with you from a Sunday morning class or a small group Bible study? Yeah. I thought so. Those of us that teach and preach already know this. You’re not hurting our feelings or surprising us by being honest. But that is an entirely different blog matter.
What I really mean is Sunday morning before you get to church. I never could resonate with the popular songs about Sundays being easy. Throughout my childhood I remember my siblings and I running around looking for clothes, my mom tight-lipped, and my dad fussing. As I got older, my most prominent memory is being rushed. Rushed to get out of bed, rushed to get dressed, rushed to get in the car. Why this was different from a school morning, I don’t know. I’m sure we got to sleep later than a school morning, so maybe it was just the different schedule that threw everyone. It wasn’t really a fight because we knew we were going to church. I don’t remember ever missing church, but I always wished I could miss Sunday morning getting ready.
Moving on to adulthood, and especially adulthood with small children, Sunday mornings didn’t change much. Except now I was the tight-lipped mom, and my husband was rushing all of us. For the past 5 1/2 years, my husband has been a pastor. He leaves before we wake up. It’s all me. I remember at first with our four girls wondering if I was going to make it through the morning without yelling. Yes, I might as well be real with you. I’m just normal. One time we got to church with half of my kids barefoot and I didn’t even know. The whole church noticed. It takes a lot of hairbrushing and attitude control, but I finally found my rhythm. I think the problem is that it is a different day than the daily, and people find themselves fighting against routine and readiness. Maybe we are all wistfully singing with Lionel Ritchie. But, the truth is, we want to center our lives around our faith. I want to go to church, and I want to help my kids be ready to worship and learn about God. I want to have a good attitude about even getting ready and be a good example for the girls.
I will give you my tips, but please know that we still have yelling, crying, desperate shoe-hunts, and tangles. We are not perfect. Find a rhythm that works for you. Get up on time. Know what you’re having for breakfast. Get ritualistic about it; kids are naturally liturgical anyways so you might as well start with a liturgical schedule before you get to the liturgy. We always have canned cinnamon rolls. It’s not fancy or even that healthy but it’s quick and easy and everyone likes it. You can have vegetables at lunch, people. Set the tone for the house with your attitude. Clothes and hair and teeth should be taken care of matter-of-factly. Use my favorite Mom-line if you need to, “Everyone in the world is brushing their teeth in the morning and getting dressed. It is not a big deal.” If there is crying or a melt-down, respond calmly and move forward. Sit down and breathe deep if necessary. Move forward easy. Easy like Sunday morning.
Katie Sciba is a writer, a licensed social worker, an ordained Baptist minister, a pastor’s wife, and a mother from Victoria, Texas. She is married to Matt, and they are parents to Anna (13), Maile (11), Lydia (8), and Claire (6). Katie blogs online at Always Simply Begin. Katie loves yoga, good reads, and hiking with her family.
