Sunday dinners~ back when we were still dating, I always loved when he would call on Saturday night and say “Mom says to come over for dinner after church.”
I loved going to Mary’s house for dinner on Sunday. I must confess, I often spent more time trying to guess what she had made for dinner than I did listening to the sermon. It really didn’t matter what it was because it was always good. The smell would hit your nose the second you walked in the door. Meat and gravy slow cooking in the oven, sweet tea brewing on the stove, and the table already set with an extra chair for me. There was always plenty for seconds. I would leave the table feeling warm and full, and then spend the rest of the afternoon lounging in the living room, taking turns reading the Sunday paper.
It occurred to me that my own children probably had very different Sunday memories~ like leaving church and deciding what fast food we were going to get. Or coming home and clearing the cereal bowls off the table so we could eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I decided it was time to start changing that.
I got up early and made an enchilada casserole. I put it in the oven and asked my husband to set the time bake so it would be done at 12:15. We got in the car after church and the boys immediately wanted to know where we were going for lunch. “Home!” I said. Jude said he wanted peanut butter and jelly for lunch and Gideon started to cry when I told him we were having enchiladas. So far things where not going the way I had envisioned. I was starting to think I should have spared myself the trouble of making dinner and slept in.
When we walked in the door the only smell that hit my nose was the smell of burning food. I tossed the arm-load of church bags on the couch and ran toward to oven. I opened the door fearing the worst… but the enchiladas where beautifully browned and bubbly. My extra work was rewarded with pleases and thank-yous and requests for seconds and even third helpings! Maybe we’ll try to make a habit out of Sunday dinners
My calendar and thermometer don’t seem to be agreeing with each other. The calendar says it’s the end of September but the thermometer seems to think it’s the middle of July. I’m ready for crisp, cool weather and fall colors.
Uncle Rex let each of the boys pick out their own giant pumpkin to take home. For the better part of a day I drove around town with over 150 lbs. worth of pumpkin in my van. They look bright and cheerful on my front porch and they are a nice reminder that summer is indeed coming to and end.
It amazes me and humbles me when I consider all of the times I have fallen short, let them down, lost my patience and yet they still want to pick me flowers. I’m leaning a lot from my children.