The Prodigal Church-goer

I work just about every Sunday and miss out on my favorite day of the week.  Even today in the age of 24 hour everything, it still feels like the least stressful day of the week.  Growing up, my family usually slept in later on Sundays, without a list of chores awaiting us like Saturday.  My father would take us to church around 10 for Sunday school, and mom would follow later, as she was always on the choir's schedule.  After Sunday school everyone would go to the sanctuary for singing and preachin',  which was normally over around noon (always an eternity for me). We would then head home, shed stiff clothing and eat Sunday dinner, usually the best meal of the week.  For most of those years Virginia still had Blue Laws, and the only businesses that could open on Sundays were restaurants and convenience stores.  I am not an especially religious person, but I fondly remember this quiet, family-centric day.  These days working Sundays means missing some great brunches and discounted Bloody Marys (one of my favorite beverages and a legitimate excuse to drink before noon) at local restaurants.

So on the last day of my mini-vacation earlier in the month, I found my self with the rare Sunday off, my first of the year.  I did not wake up intent on attending church, but on my morning walk, church found me as I walked along the shore of Metompkin Bay.



















If you would like to see all of my recent Eastern Shore pictures just click here.  I have also added a new label to this blog called "Making Time for Church" which will take you to other places or times where the spirit moved me.