From the Sunday Morning Rest to the Sunday Morning Rush.

I remember as a young girl Sunday mornings with my family. It truly was a day of rest. Of course this was also twenty years ago.  It was the one day of the week we could, if we chose to, sleep in.  When I woke up, mom would often have bacon, eggs and pancakes cooking on the stove. Dad would usually be sitting in his recliner by the big picture window reading a book and sipping on a cup of Folgers. The aroma of the coffee would fill the house silently telling everyone it was morning and time to wake up.  I think I drink coffee to this day just because of that familiar smell that takes me back.

At some point in the morning I would hear my two older sisters bickering for a spot in our quaint bathroom which was by no means fit for a family of four females. One of my sisters tells of her memory of the "single bathroom drama" in these words, " I know that as soon as she heard my feet hit the floor she would jump out of bed, race down the stairs and dash into the bathroom to stake claim on the shower".  With some screaming, pushing and shoving, they always managed to get showered and beautified with still enough time to enjoy some of Marty Stoufers, "Wild America"on our box of three channels. When it was time for Sunday School, all five of us would squeeze into the family car, where the saga continued..In the absence of air conditioning, dad preferred the windows down, contrary to my sisters, who did not want their hair to be tampered with by the wind. This was true of every Sunday until fall and winter arrived. Praise the Lord for cold weather!

All of the battles and conflict were only a minute part of our Sunday morning routine. I can look back at them now and chuckle. One thing that will always be magnified to me is the restfulness of the day. After church we would go to "Grams" for cheeseburgers and salad, spend some time with family and then back home for a bike ride or swim in the lake. We were able to pack so much activity into one day and still return for another hour of church in the evening.

Let's fast forward to present day and leave the end of I-95 North to come to the end of I-95 South, and I literally do mean the "end." Two decades later and some distinct cultural and economical differences actually moves us ahead thirty years, from the Sunday Morning Rest to what I now call the, Sunday Morning Rush.

My husband Brandon is the senior pastor of a seemingly large church in South Miami. His Sunday mornings start at five AM. He is usually out of the house before the AAAs even open their little peepers, with the exception of my early bird Ava Marie. I will quietly but quickly get myself showered and dressed in my Sunday best before the party starts.. Yes thats right.. you read, "PARTY" and it is nothing short of a party. Let me enlighten you...

This past Sunday It was my darling Ainsley's first birthday and I had a new outfit for her along with matching outfits for the sibs. Ava was elated about her dress until she put it on to find that the bow on the front wasn't directly in the middle. It was off to the side. I feared the worst, but with some non-sparing of the rod, I managed to get her calmed down so we could then tackle the shoes. Ava likes one pair of shoes and it wasnt the pair I had in mind. I knew this wouldnt be easy but eventually, I had the Ava Marie fixed, primped and ready to go.

Ainsley was a little less difficult. My biggest obstacle with her always revolves around a simple diaper. As soon as the diaper comes off, she crawls away, giggling and laughing, with impeccable speed. Once changed and fresh, she hobbles into her outfit without to much of a fuss. She's pretty consistant and throws me no surprises.

This particular day, Austin was the straw that broke the camel's back.  After setting the house alarm, locking up the house and latching in the girls to their carseats, I look down and discover to my surprise that Austin is in his bear feet. I bit my tongue, wiped the sweat off my forehead, and dashed inside for a quick pair of crocks, then back to the van, to peel out of the driveway.. :)

You see, all of these little mishaps take time, precious time that is hard to come by on Sunday morning. What our goal is for Sunday morning is to be out of the house by 8 AM. I have started a little Sunday morning tradition for the kids that I enjoy as much as they. I've tried to create something calming about the day that they can look back at as a pleasant family memory. Yes, daddy is missing from the picture, but some things we have no control over, so we make it work. What we look forward to every Sunday is something that all three of the A's equally love; a weekly visit to Panera Bread, where we all four enjoy our Cinnamon Crunch Bagel's with Honey Walnut Cream Cheese. Austin and Ava share one and I give Ainsley a chunk of mine which she takes with her tongue hanging out and her hands wide open. (she doesn't get the cream cheese:) They all sit like perfect angels who never give their mom any problems whatsoever, and cordially eat there bagel. I dont know how it is that they behave so pleasingly every Sunday morning at Panera, but they know if they don't, there wont be any more bagel stops.

 I wipe their faces and into the van we go again to finish our trip to the church. I actually love being on the road in Miami on Sunday mornings, due to the rare mild traffic. Its the one day that I just might not get honked at and may have the road to myself for a moment.

 From the smell of dads coffee, to a quick stop for a Bagel, its all about a childhood memory. Routines change no matter where we are, but its amazing how significantly time has changed one particular day of the week for our family.