“Something About A Sunday”

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The “early service” on Sundays, feels different, for me.  It seems a bit more holy.  I am not sure why.  The same choir, sings the same songs.  The sun is just as generous as it was on any given Tuesday and rain too falls when it will.    .still there is “Something About A Sunday”.

Maybe, growing up in the “Bible Belt”  has something to do with this notion of mine.  I did have perfect attendance in the Sunday School, the first ten years of my life.  I think the chicken pox ruined that for me.  On Sundays, we got still and said “thank you” . . and it just seemed right, to do so.

What a big production, Sundays were.  I slept in curlers, for no apparent reason, as my hair was”straight as a stick”  by ten am.  Delores had perfect curls all day long.  No amount of prayer, ensured curls in my hair.   We dressed in our best attire, which meant lace and patent leathers.  There was some rule that you wore black patent leathers after Labor day til Easter, when you switched to white.  It mattered little if you had a growth spurt during a season, we each got one pair a season.  The shoes were especially pretty and would shine, but you had to be careful not to scuff them.  Even the under garments were fancy.  Everything had lace-that itched awfully bad.  It is no wonder, we were able to sit still for the longest hour of the week-the sermon.

Even with tight shoes and scratchy dresses, I loved Sunday School. We sang sweet little songs and memorized Bible verses. We were told a  Bible story and then colored a picture about it.  I loved the teachers, and thought the sweetest women in the church got selected to teach.  I just taught Lyla a song that I remember learning in the three year old class, from “Miss Jo”.   By the time, you were in the four and five year olds, “Miss Linda” was the teacher and I learned “This Little Light of Mine”.   We memorized the books of the Bible and the “Ten Commandments”. Later, there was “Miss Tillie”and “Miss Faye”.  All beloved, to this day.   I am not sorry for one minute of Sunday School, for many times now, in hours of need, one of those verses or songs, will spring in my head at just the right moment.

Sundays were observed fully, in my childhood. You best not lose a button on Sunday-if you did you had to put it up in a safe place til Monday.  No one would have sewn on a Sunday.  Likewise, the washing machine sat silently, as did the fields.  it was considered sinful, to farm on Sundays.  I do remember, once, my older cousin Harvey did not get dressed for Church, for he had decided to plow.  My Aunt Agnes was horribly shocked and threatened him the God would surely withhold rain because of it.  Harvey told Aunt Agnes she needed to read her Bible.  He said “the rainfalls on the just and the unjust.”    I did not laugh then as I was expecting lightening to strike Harvey-what with plowing on Sunday and sassing too. . .now I laugh at this memory, whole heartedly.  That was a quiet drive to Church that day. 

I do not know why  cooking was allowed on Sunday, but  I m glad it was.  All stores and restaurants were closed., maybe that is why.  Grandmama took to staying home from Church, just to cook Sunday dinner for the rest of us.  I bet it was the only way she could get a moment of peace.  We none dared criticize  her as she made things like chicken & pastry, and banana pudding.

In warm seasons, Pop made homemade ice cream.  Aunt Christine and Uncle Gene would come.  My cousins  and I would make quite a ruckus til it was ready.  We were accused of “disturbing the peace” often and “God help you” if you ran through where the adults were sitting.  If a ball found its’ way there, the bravest one would sneak in “like a thief in the night” to retrieve it.  We were also expected to settle our own disputes.  Tattling was frowned upon, unless it involved someone being hurt-or property damage.  Occasionally, there was property damage.

Those memories are old now, but their impression has served me as a “favor” , all of my life.  I knew my people . . . and they knew me.  That alone has meant the world,  in life.  I think of those days, now as the ham is cooked and the potato salad is chilling.  Ham tastes better on Sundays . . . and so does cornbread.  There is just “Something About A Sunday”.

20 thoughts on ““Something About A Sunday””

  1. Even today with all the changes Sunday is a day of rest. To some of us that word rest is hard to take in but if God himself need a restful day we probably do too.Thank you Lord Jesus for thinking of us …again!

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  3. A lovely post again.
    I found myself wondering why Sunday dinner has to be such a palaver, as I peeled potatoes and then i thought because it is Sunday, sunday is Gods day and all Sundays are special! Thank you for putting it so much better than I can. My Sundays were Irish catholic, but the wearing your best knickers and making the day different and special were just the same!

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    1. Sunday is a special time given to us and for us, I think. It is a good time of restoration too. I love thinking of the different ways we all make Sunday special. thank you Cathy I hope your Sundays are always special. love Michele

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  6. My mom would start Sunday dinner the night before. She taught Sunday School and played the organ for church, then came home and finished preparing the dinner. No wonder she always took a nap on Sunday afternoons! I didn’t do that. We lived in New York, and I played two services and went to Sunday School in between. I was often at church for five hours. We either went out for dinner or just had a snack at home.

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  8. What precious Sunday memories! I remember our Mama making big Sunday dinners (served midday) of tender roasts or casseroles that slow-cooked while we were @ church. Papa usually invited surprise guests to join us, so she made extras. Sunday dinner was a big dea! hugs! 🌷🤗🌷

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  9. Back in the last century, there was more of a rhythm and cadence to the week. Certainly the peak of my week was Saturday. The TV was relinquished to the children, and all the adventures of the world (and even a few beyond it!) came to me in glowing black and white. Mom would go to the grocery on Saturday. When younger, it meant riding along and getting one of those nickle samples from the Brach’s bulk candy display, and your chance to select the cereal of the week. When older, we could be trusted to stay at home, and had the run of the place (though Dad was kicking around somewhere). Mom would bring home lunch. Hamburgers from McDonalds, or occasionally Chinese food.
    Sunday, the world seemed to hush. More “blue laws” in those days, and also just a lot of businesses that closed, whether regarding Christianity or convenience, for a day of rest. Few cars passed up and down the road, no school buses. It was a bummer to have to bathe and go to bed early for school on Monday, but Sunday brought with it Walt Disney in the evening. What better way to wrap a week, or start a new one?

    All my best,

    Paz

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  10. Such a sweet post! And it brought back so many memories. I used to sleep in curlers, too, and dress up in a fancy outfit complete with patent leather shoes. Sunday school as as you described, and I usually was quite happy to go. We did do some work on Sundays, though, although not until after our weekly lunch with my grandparents right after church. Thanks for sharing this!!

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  12. You have brought back such great memories Michele. Sundays were wonderful days, filled with family, friends, church, bible memory work and potluck meals.
    I grinned about the plowing on Sunday. We would see someone in a neighboring town mowing lawn and also waited for the lightening strikes!

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