No matter how I say this, it's going to be misconstrued, but I'm going to take the plunge anyway. After dinner today, we barely got the table cleaned up and dishes done when everyone left for home. Usually we have a few who hang around all afternoon, but today no one did. Here's where I'm going to be in trouble: It was a pleasantly quiet afternoon; I watched a PBS program on two of England's early queens, Isabella and Margaret, who lived in the 14th century, and earned the epithet of "She-Wolves" for their aggressive and active participation in the political machinations of the day. I know, it's not what most people would find interesting, but I found it fascinating. I read the introduction to the writings of Catherine of Sienna, one of the late Medieval Church's saints, while Linda napped, accompanied by the droning of her favorite TV show, NCIS.
Sunday afternoons are not usually quiet around here. Most of the time, no matter which room we enter, someone is already there, watching TV, reading, or in the case of the little ones, playing. If the weather is cooperative, there'll be two or three bouncing on the trampoline or playing in the creek. It won't be long before snowball fights or tobogganing are the order of the day. But today, it was quiet...enjoyably so. I wouldn't want it this way every Sunday. Sundays are when we catch up with each other's lives, when we talk, listen, love, and laugh together. The quiet was a welcome change, but it seemed a bit odd, the day stretching on almost interminably. I am grateful for it, but looking forward to next Sunday when everyone gathers again, and the noise and confusion careens all around the house. I'll look around, smile, miss most of the conversation, and rejoice in the contentment and blessing of the family God has given me.
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