The best Sundays are, in my opinion, lazy. I think all of us but my workaholic husband accomplished a best Sunday.
We had another wonderful church service. It was Communion Sunday, and they had put a red rag on every chair with this verse from Isaiah on it: We are all infected and impure with sin. When we display our righteous deeds, they are nothing but filthy rags. Before taking Communion, we put our rags on the cross, because the blood of Jesus makes us pure again. Thank God for that. Even writing this brings me to tears again, because I screw this up so often. So Often.
Kevin says that we’re all human, we all mess up, but sometimes I feel like I’m the only one. I’m the only one to ever lose my temper. I’m the only one who is so selfish, I’d rather not share a tasty treat with my three-year-old. I’m the only one who is so judgemental or sorely lacking in self discipline or so irritable. I’m the only one who ____________________(fill in the blank with sin of your choice).
I know this isn’t true, I know this is distorted thinking, but it still feels true sometimes, and I feel so sorry. Sorry for the people who have to live with me. Sorry for my Jesus who had to die for someone like me.
Enough pity party. I’m doing the best I can.
We were then given a verse bracelet with 1 Timothy 4:12 on it to remind us to live pure. 
It was a meaningful morning to say the least. My parents had gone to a different church for a jazz service, and brought us home lunch. We ate outside, admired my parents’ new car, played outside,
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It was a meaningful morning to say the least. My parents had gone to a different church for a jazz service, and brought us home lunch. We ate outside, admired my parents’ new car, played outside,
then everyone had a nap except Kevin, who worked diligently scraping the house so it can be painted by the girls’ birthday party on Sunday.
After we all got up, we took the jeep to an ice cream social, where I got to have homemade apple pie with crumbly crust topping, homemade vanilla ice cream on top and fresh strawberries to go with it. Upon arriving home, the small ones played in the pool. After some unwinding time, a couple stories, and much ado, 
they were in bed. I did a scrapbook layout and Kevin worked on the hobbit room a bit more.
they were in bed. I did a scrapbook layout and Kevin worked on the hobbit room a bit more. It was a wonderful day.
sounds like a wonderful, wonderful day.
Hm, I’m going to have to keep reading to figure out what the “hobbit room” is!
You mean I’m not the only one that feels supremely selfish and doesn’t want to share my treats? Maybe we’re both married to the most UNselfish men in the world, and that’s why we feel so selfish? Or maybe it’s a mommy thing since we’re automatically supposed to be ultra-sacrificial, right?
Seriously though, what a good verse about our righteousness being as filthy rags. So much better to be loving in these areas as a gift to God, a sacrificial one…than to wear all our good deeds out for all the wrong reasons. Good to ponder that one awhile.
Missed ya!
It was a wonderful day…counting my blessings.
The hobbit room is just a nickname for this room that is about as big as a walk-in closet. You have to pass through it to go from one end of the house to the other upstairs, and one doorway is extra short, perfect for hobbits. We are converting it to a reading nook. I have big plans, but very little follow through. 🙂