Pennies from Heaven

You have to be, I suppose, of a certain age to remember the song "Pennies from Heaven." I'm thinking of the weather. It has been raining off and on this weekend. I had to bring my laundry in, just when I thought it was safe to hang it on the line.

It's Sunday morning. When I was growing up the entire family got ready to go to church. There were no questions asked. Oh, yes. There were times we balked, but deep down we knew we had to be there. Uncle Ed said he heard someone say their kids didn't want to go to church. He laughed and said, "No body ever asked us."

Church, Sunday dinner and visiting - that's what Sunday was all about. My mom and my cousin said you didn't do anything, not even use a scissors on Sunday. It was a day of rest.

I'm thinking it stayed that way until the advent of Sunday opening. That truly changed the way we lived. Now not only do we work all week, we work on the weekends. Or at the least, we shop. Every day is the same as every other, and it has made us all that much more busy.

I don't like all the busyness. Of course, I do it to myself. I have things I love to do and desire so strongly to do that I squeeze them into my weeks. Then, on the weekend, I forgo cleaning my house for weaving, knitting taking care of plants and other things. Oh, cooking and baking too. I love to bake.

Then again, the pastor's wife, Karen, told me once that "cleanliness is next to Godliness," was concocted by someone somewhere and is NOT a directive of the Bible. I took those words to heart.

In between the wash, kuchen baking and cleaning one of our two bathrooms yesterday, I walked to get the mail. At least the mail doesn't come on Sundays too. I stopped to get a photo. The apple trees are beginning to bloom. In the field next to the house we have a red one and a white one - blossoms that is. The varieties are more decorative than edible. So, enjoy this little glimpse of sunshine from yesterday. I'm on my way to church.