smells like Sunday…

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Seems like a very long time since we’ve had six together in the ‘burb!! Filled with gratitude for the opportunity our older girls were given as they served the people of South Texas. And filled with gratitude for their safe return. For their many stories, and for hearts tender towards others. Mission trips are not without challenges—I remember when Steve and I went as youth to Kentucky one summer. Specifically, I remember raking leaves on what seemed like a whole side of a mountain (it really wasn’t) and bagging them up and loaded them in a pickup. We worked and worked in the holler. And we were proud!! Only to be told the hill now looked too “unnatural” and that we would need to grab a filled bag and sprinkle the leaves back on the hill. For real?

I remember going as youth sponsors in the middle of the summer to San Antonio with two very little girls (Nat and Kass), a bus load of youth, many sponsor couples and a very pregnant belly, not to mention significant water retention.

It’s almost come full circle—Steve and I as youth—then as sponsors with our own little girls—and now our two girls as youth!

As we were preparing for all three of our girls to make it back to us, we knew we wanted to sit around the table. There is something about eating around the table together that supports relationships with others. We also know that it isn’t easy to prepare food to be done and ready to go in a timely matter after church when tummies seem to rumble a little sooner and a little louder than on other days.

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I remember eating at grandma’s on Sundays—I think we even switched back and forth from one Gtandma’s to the other on each given Sunday. How did they do that? They prepared–that’s what they did. They made their table big and made the Sunday meal important.

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The smell of roast takes me right back to that time—perhaps the greatest comfort food of all from childhood. And roast doesn’t taste the same on a different day of the week. It’s a Sunday food. And even though it may take a bit more prep than going out to eat—there is something about the Sunday roast and the Sunday table pulled big for guests that I want to keep alive in our home. And nope–it won’t happen every weekend (yesterday was the first all summer!) but I sure would like it to happen more often than not. For the table to be pulled big on Saturday in preparation for Sunday. An open home to include guests as much as possible.

I want my kids to grow up and know the smell of Sunday…

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