Yep, Sunday is special. Loretta and I usually go to Mass, and we dress up for that (it’s a special occasion) and breakfast at the diner. It’s a scenic tour for the mind; people I know are pictured there, things I have to do that week are briefly included, and yes, there’s a whole lot of gratitude.
I try to keep all of that secret (the Lord doesn’t like blaggards, or boasters) but I do enjoy meeting old friends. There’s something memorable about the people I have met, most of them by chance (Providence) because my relatives are at least eight miles away. These friends came with the neighborhood or the job or whatever. They are gifts of God.
I don’t fish for compliments, but the respect in their demeanor lifts the soul. And what else is Sunday morning for?