For some strange reason, I imagine (and expect) a world where getting ready for church on Sunday mornings should be peaceful and serene. It should be similar to a scene in a Disney musical where all sing merrily and whistle while they work. In my life, however, there is an abrupt collision of reality and expectations. 8:30 Sunday morning can be likened more to a freight train passing through the elephant’s quarters at the zoo. Imagine your most graceful, prim & proper friend. Hello, you’ve just met the antithesis.
Here’s my Sunday morning in a nutshell:
- Below is a picture of my potluck brunch dish that I prepared (monkey bread).
Word of warning: Pyrex accidentally placed on a hot burner will EXPLODE.
- A catastrophe of curlers–Curlers EVERYWHERE, including but not limited to the dog’s dish and toilet.
- The What-Should-I-Wear-Snydrome
- Female issues of epidemic proportions
- And this…
Thankfully, from this point forward, my day could ONLY get better…even if my dog DID gift me with three landmines upon my return from church.
I am fairly confident that I won’t be singing “Peaceful Easy Feeling” as I get ready on Sunday mornings anytime soon. However, I am thankful for the JOY I can have even in the midst of…well, crap.
