Sunday mornings

Spring Sunday mornings are my favorite day of the week at home. Not because I have the most fun on Sundays, or because they're the day of the week when I can get up latest. No. I love Sunday mornings because God blesses them with peaceful contentment, and prepares my heart for worship before I even get dressed for church.
Every Sunday at home, I wake up around 8:30 (just as the rest of my family is leaving--late--for the 8:30 service) and go for a jog through a nearby neighborhood. I love this neighborhood. Maybe it's because no other family member ever follows me there, and I am able to exercise without a drill sergeant or a much-more-athletic sibling. I don't have to listen to my mom carry on about how the world is turning more evil day-by-day, or, quite to the contrary, listen to her comment on everyone's yard and give her opinions about their type of roofing.
No, this neighborhood is my neighborhood, in a way, except that I don't live there. It's shady and cool in the summer heat, and sometimes it makes me feel like I'm deep within a forest. I have this particular series of music I like to listen to when I go jogging there; it adds to the peace, but at the same time, is not to slow or gentle. It's soft but content and pleasant, like twinkling stars or a sparkling lake. It sounds like sunshine.

When I return from my jog, the rest of my chaotic family has long left for church, and won't be back until nearly 11. I have the house to myself.
First, I get a glass of clear, pure, delicious cold water, and I head upstairs. I open my computer, turn on itunes to more peaceful, orchestral music, and get in the shower. I don't bother to close the curtain (but I do close and lock the door), because I prefer to gaze up at the ceiling I painted to look like a pergola, and let the sunlight drift from the skylight right onto my face. I get out of the shower refreshed and calm, my body clean and restful. I then have the remaining hour to get dressed at my own pace for a change; with no periodic interruptions from my mom about this-or-that-or-the-other-that's-not-really-so-urgent-that-she-needs-to-barge-in-on-me-dressing-and-getting-ready, or calls from my sister with complaints about my music. My time, for once, is all my own.
Finally, at about 10:45, I am clean, dressed, and ready for church. I drive the ten miles at a gentle pace, for once not being late and in a hurry. I play my oldest, most favorite CD, and I open the sunroof to let in the breeze, arriving at church just in time to have a seat before the opening song of 11:05 worship. God is so good.

Thank you, God, for your beautiful Sunday mornings. Thank you for giving them to me in blessing, for giving me the opportunity to really prepare my heart to worship.