Sunday's Child

Like two cathedral towers these stately pines
Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones;
The arch beneath them is not built with stones,
Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines,
And carved this graceful arabesque of vines;
No organ but the wind here sighs and moans,
No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones.
No marble bishop on his tomb reclines.
Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves,
Gives back a softened echo to thy tread!
Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds,
In leafy galleries beneath the eaves,
Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled,
And learn there may be worship with out words.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I snapped this photo in the Garnison’s Kirkyard by my home when we were living in Copenhagen, Denmark. While it might be thought gruesome to push my baby’s pram there, it was quite acceptable in Copenhagen. This is a headstone marker for a pastor of a church. My favorite thing about this poem is the lines about how there may be worship without words. When I was an overwrought preteen, I found poetry as an emotional outlet. This was a poem I kept in my scriptures and I would read it on Sundays at church. It made me long to be outside and to be by myself. I found myself overshy and intimidated at church. Nowadays, I am busy chasing my son, who wants to escape the chapel and go outside. Sometimes I let him and I do not feel guilty one bit.

When I think of Sunday accessories, I think of things that the older women in my generation would have used. This is one of my old fashioned handbags that I love. The pink lipstick is an appropriate shade that keeps the women at church from frowning in disapproval. The pearl bead necklace was my great grandmother's and though it is not real, I love thinking of her when I wear it. She was a Greek immigrant and not wealthy, but she must have thought this necklace was worth something in memories.

I always have a book of poetry tucked in my purse or baby bag. One of my favorite poets is Emily Dickinson and I am drawn to her poetry on Sundays. Maybe because the cadence of her words are not hurried or heavy, but soft and slow, not unlike how I viewed Sundays when I was a child.

On Sundays, my parents were particular about what we could watch on the television. The Sound of Music was deemed worthy. It must have been the nuns that made it acceptable!!