Sunday Sunday

I miss my ward. And the old neighborhood.

Tommy misses his Primary class (and especially his teachers) like you wouldn't believe. And he wants to ride bikes. Which he thinks he can only do at our old house because as soon as we moved it turned into Utah and it's been bitter cold and covered in snow outside. I'm not really sure when he'll realize we're not going back there.

Little John doesn't talk enough to express missing home. But I'm sure he does. Because how could he not?

During the move Josh's work schedule changed. He asked for Sundays off and by some small miracle he got it. Josh has been working at least every other Sunday for....I don't know, longer than I care to think about. And honestly, if I didn't have the calling I had, I might have stopped going to church without him. The boys and I had some good really good weeks when I convinced myself I could handle it, and some really horrible weeks when I swore I'd never leave my house again, but most of the weeks were just hard and over time it all felt so.....pointless. I was getting nothing but mad at my kids, and my kids were crazy and ornery and so so tired and wiggly and ... children.

Here's the thing, I have a testimony and I love church. And I even love The Church. And I love The Gospel. But I felt worn down and alone. So this schedule change which gave me an extra set of hands felt like a gift from God, just for me. Like "I can see you need it, so let me boost you just a bit."

So a month ago my Sundays were very full and structured days. The alarm went off just as early as any other day and the Sunday clothes lasted at least 6 hours for all of us. They were busy days during which I wasn't as available to them as I wanted to be.

And right now, I have this sweet grace period right after you move where they don't call you to anything, and when/if they do it isn't likely to be too demanding - because what if we turn out to be unreliable? - and I get Sunday mornings to spend with my sweet family doing exactly what I want to and avoiding everything else. At least that's what it felt like this morning.

So we made breakfast. The good kinds. Eggs, muffins, fruit. Delicious.

I didn't make the kids get dressed, because late church = late jammies.

So we sat around the Christmas Tree talking and playing. The boys took turns playing the piano, I read a book, and Josh slept.

It was a beautiful morning. And I'm looking forward to a few more like it before we switch to 9:00 church and I start enjoying beautiful afternoons.