The gift of the weekends

It is Saturday. How I love the freedom of weekends. So much to be done. But, first and foremost, is a leisurely breakfast with the Sisters with whom I live—that is if they slept in as late I allow myself to do. Weekends are also a time for me to treat myself to a large dose of spiritual reading and reflection upon the Scriptures.  It is also time to explore nature, to drink in the richness of nature’s gifts: the beauty of the  forest, the landscaping around St. Francis Residential Community and Our Lady of Sorrows Convent, to take a longer walk .  And, yes, the habits of childhood return. Weekends were a time to spiffy up the house—every nook and cranny had to be cleaned from top to bottom. I think that is part of my Dutch heritage.  A clean, orderly house,  a sparkling environment was a prelude to what Sundays were all about: spending special time with the One from whom all beauty originates, inside and out.  So Saturdays was part of what made Sundays so special for me as a child. If I don’t do some cleaning on Saturday in some corner in which I live,  Sundays seem cheated in my book.  Strange, but cleaning and putting things in order are in my bones.