I'm not sure what Lionel Richie was talking about
when he sang the line, "Because, I'm easy.....easy like Sunday morning."
But I know three things.
He wasn't going to church.
He wasn't getting his kids ready for church.
And he definitely wasn't cleaning his house
so his church could meet in his living room.
And I know this because those are the things I do
and when Sunday morning rolls around I am never "easy".
Frantic? Cranky? Harried? Yes.
Irritated? Tardy? Mildly psychotic? Always.
Easy? Never. Not in a million years.
I know Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest. For someone.
I know Sunday is supposed to be a day of worship. Somewhere.
But for me that is the time when all the crazy comes out.
My house ALWAYS looks like the wreck of the Hesperus.
I use the phrase "the wreck of the Hesperus"
because when I was little my mom used to say,
"This house looks like the wreck of the Hesperus."
And I had no idea what she meant. But now I do.
It means there are so many little things littered across your floor,
you feel your head just might explode.
And then there is getting the children ready.
They are always naked. Or have paired a ski jacket with shorts.
And there is only one sock between the three of them.
And they have I-went-to-bed-with-still-damp-Saturday-night-bath-hair
that can not be tamed with any type of mousse or gel.
And then there is me. Getting me ready.
That is left until after the house is clean, the coffee is made,
we have run to the store for just "one more thing" for the 12th time,
the children are clothed, the furniture is rearranged into rows,
and then I think about my hair. Ponytail or messy bun. Done.
Makeup? Some under eye concealer and shiny lip product.
Can't find gloss? Chapstick, Vaseline, or Vicks will do.
Of course with Vicks, there is the added bonus of mentholatum
which will clear the sinuses.
And then there is the Sunday morning anger.
It wells up just when you are trying to be spiritual.
You turn on worship songs to get ready to.
You are singing along when you realize you have two minutes
to finish getting ready, the children are bickering,
there are no paper products for the coffee you have made,
and the baby has dumped milky cheerios down his 3rd outfit.
And you become enraged in a matter of seconds.
So before the service actually starts,
I have had to repent 3 times and ask forgiveness from my children.
And from Jesus. And Scott. And the neighbors.
And to anyone else who has encountered me at my house
on Sunday morning when I am still getting ready,
I'm throwing a forgiveness shout out to you, too. Sorry.
I'm praying Jesus helps my kids forget these Sunday mornings.
It could stunt their spiritual growth for life.
Our church plant is getting ready to start meeting in a theater.
Which is a huge miracle and answer to prayer.
But I know from the past that getting kids ready, loaded up,
and arriving to church on time, is no small feat either.
And I just have one thing to say about that.
Shame on you, Lionel Richie.
Shame. On. You.