This reflection is an antidote to my previous post:
We’ve settled in to a bit of a weekend routine, and it’s my favorite time to be out and about in the neighborhood. I’ve walked up and down our high-rise-ridden avenue, and out away from the traffic through quiet, tree-lined streets with tidy brick colonials and bungalows. We had a few friends over for a relaxed Saturday lunch and dipped our feet in the pool across the street. They brought a blueberry pie.
Our new church meets in the evenings on Sunday, and I really enjoy being home in the morning. It’s the only day out of seven that I can ease into. After a quiet day, it seems natural to close the weekend in worship and fellowship, and to go out into the week reminded of God’s active grace.
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