I’ll always remember a song called Sunday mornin’ comin’ down… Originally by Johnny Cash and then picked up by Kris Kristofferson (maybe written by Kris???) anyhow… Sunday has always been special for so many ways. It’s a day when you wake up from Saturday night and realize God is waiting…. and so you slouch or drag off to church and there find? a singing priest? yes at Donna’s church in LaGrange, Father Patrick (grandfather from the shores of Ireland)…Singing from Fiddler on the Roof, "If I were a rich man"… it’s tithing Sunday (the final in a three week request for time, talent and treasure.) Fortunately Donna’s church here in Lagrange has no building debt as many churches do, and the roof was replaced courtesy of the insurance company for hail damage… of course, as Father was quick to remind the parishioners, we paid the insurance premiums.) So I sat there, 11am Sunday and drank in the smell of candles and listened to the too slow organ and the somewhat cranky guitar and thanked God for giving us Sunday morning. Then I had to stop and pick up a chicken. Was your Sunday one that you expected a roasted chicken? I seem to remember that ours was. Always a roasted chicken for Sunday dinner. I’m making a boiled chicken soup. I still smell of cut up vegetables (the scraps of carrot and celery went to the bunny who resides in the front yard…. escaped from some neighbor’s pen? we feed the bunny). Meatloaf was reserved for Tuesday or Wednesday. And Football … my dears, Sunday afternoon this time of year is reserved for football. I was naughty this morning and greeted one of the ushers with "Ah! your’re wearing an Auburn sweatshirt? do you want to go there? yes! He answered, I advised him I think Auburn is a fine school, but "I’m a Hurricane," I said flashing him the "U"… As I said, naughty. So, with a chicken in the pot (I’m making chicken soup as Mom might enjoy that… with lots of vegetables.) And I’m off to watch Sunday afternoon football with Tom Brady and his pals and other teams too. God bless you.
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