The contagious sound of joyful song makes its way up the stairs and into my bedroom. Worship music fills the house from the speaker system downstairs and my mom and dad walk around singing their favorite songs as they get ready for the day. I lay in bed with my eyes still closed, but I’m awake and I’m singing.
It’s Sunday morning.
These sounds of Sunday mornings growing up in the Rainer home were, and still are, so precious. They are memories that I plan to recreate for my future children one day. I want them to wake up on Sunday mornings with song on their lips, with a sacred anticipation in their hearts, for a day spent with Family and doing Church.
Sunday mornings might not always be exciting or easy for them. In fact, the older they get the harder Sunday mornings might become. That was, and still is, true of me; it might also be true of you. Sometimes when you’ve lived with the churchy stuff for an entire quarter of a lifetime, Sunday mornings lose her charm. Church-going starts feeling like an obligation. Church-being starts feeling forced, the motions, the socializing, the volunteering, the singing, the sitting, the standing.
But it’s the sacramental moments of turning up my favorite hymns and songs, starting my Sunday preparing my heart and my mind for God’s grace, that carries me out the door and into community, into church. This morning, into Fayetteville Anglican Fellowship.