Every Sunday morning, for as long as I can remember, my family has had a Sunday morning ritual. Everywhere that we’ve lived, despite children aging and parents divorcing, and even despite great changes in the ritual, we’ve still had it. That fact hasn’t changed. This idea of a Sunday morning has stuck with me. I love it, and it honestly makes Sunday my favorite day of the week. It adds a sense or normalcy and peace to our crazy lives in a way that absolutely nothing else does. I say that we’ve done this for as long as I can remember, and that is true. When I lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma, from when I was 2-6ish, we went to mass every Sunday, and then we would often see our grandparents, or just go home and play outside. When we moved to Edmond, Ok, when I was seven, we started going to Ted’s Mexican Restaurant every Sunday after church. In Calgary, Alberta, the kids (that being my siblings and me) would usually beg our dad to let us go to our favorite ice cream place, McKay’s (absolutely delicious, by the way. If you ever happen to stop by Cochrane, AB, I highly recommend it!). If we failed in this endeavor, as we often did, then we would go home and either play outside, if it was nice, or stay inside and read, if it wasn’t. Finally, now back in Edmond, we still go to church every Sunday. But now, after every mass, we go to the local chocolate and coffee shop, where sip our coffee drinks like truly civilized people. After that, we usually walk around historic Guthrie (we go to church in Guthrie, Ok) and stop by some antique shops. The unifying factor of all these rituals, other than the family aspect, is church. Everywhere that I have lived, I have always enjoyed attending mass. It is truly the best part of the day, and it is what makes Sundays so fabulous.
Thinking of all this this morning made me wonder why these rituals and traditions put me at ease so much. Are routines and schedules good for us? I believe that I once read that they are. Even though other routines of mine, like getting ready in the morning, aren’t as comforting as my Sunday ones, I have noticed that I feel slightly out of whack when I don’t follow them. Maybe this routine-thing is just another sign of my homebodyness (I’m aware that homebodyness isn’t actually a word, don’t worry). I don’t know. But I like being a homebody, with routines. And that’s that.
Do you like following your own routines?
P.S. I’m thinking about maybe sharing a little bit of my novel. Maybe. Thoughts?