Sunday morning is typically the same every week around our house. It's usually lazy, and often sunny. Even when I lived in Vancouver at UBC, it could rain non-stop for weeks, but somehow Sunday mornings were beautiful.
For years now at our house, the whole week could be upside down and crazy, but at least we can count on Sunday morning always being the same: cups and cups of coffee, a good paper, extra time to get ready, and plenty of sunshine.
We have learned through the years, exactly how much time is needed to get ready for church, and I suppose we have it down to a certain science. Today was particularly perfect, because everyone was showered, had clean underwear, and clean "church clothes". It is rare that we have all three things accomplished on all eight members of the family.
Then we pile in to our old Suburban, and head to Mass.
Father is always ready at the door to pluck a few altar servers and readers from our little group, and so we typically file into our pew with a few missing children who will be serving or reading.
So, today our typical Sunday was truly ticking along nearly perfectly. (Or so we thought....)
Now, these days I never leave Mass. There were plenty of years when I seemed to spend the entire time outside, or in the church hall with little ones, but not so much anymore. Today however, my nose was running and I decided to go to the bathroom. I snuck out just as Father was calling up all the children to listen to his homily.
A few minutes into the homily, my husband began to smell something burning, and went to the back of the church to investigate with the ushers. Before returning to his seat, he crept up to the front...and there it was: our toddler's hair hanging in the altar candle.
CAN YOU BELIEVE I MISSED ALL THIS?
Gives new meaning to being on fire for the Lord!
