Saturdays and Sundays

I used to dream of having “cottage meetings” in my living room. In my mind, they were unfettered religious discussions.

As I was applying to become the executive director of Quaker House, imagine how wonderful I thought it was that Fayetteville Friends met in the living room. There was even a short pew as part of the furniture!

I still think it is wonderful.

But, as I am settling into new routines, and this morning found myself catching up on dishes, doing laundry so that cloth napkins would be clean (today is potluck Sunday), straightening up, and sweeping floors, the words of a song from my childhood came to mind, “Saturday is a special day, it is the day we get ready for Sunday.”* The words go on to describe all the errands and cleaning that are done. As a child, I did not think cleaning was so special, despite the happy little tune. I still don’t. But, I don’t want to spend my Sunday mornings doing it — in the way that it gets done because people are coming over.

And, I have been doing it every Sunday morning since September 1.

I did all the regular running of errands and grocery shopping yesterday (Saturday), along with everyone else in the world, it seemed. I did some work, because what day of the week does an executive director of a small nonprofit not work at least some part of it? At that point, the last thing I wanted to do was the cleaning and straightening. Saturdays are the one day when other people are not actually scheduled to be in my home — usually. They are kind of special to me in that way. I felt I deserved a little downtime.

And, I don’t disagree with that assessment.

But, I also would rather go into Sunday worship not having had to first do so much housework. I think I will try to fine-tune that part of my new routines and life.

Because, while you still can’t convince me that doing chores in order to prepare for a future day is special, my quiet Sunday mornings are special. I miss them.

_______________

*Children’s Songbook, No. 196, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1989. Words and lyrics by Rita S. Robinson, arr. by Chester W. Hill.

Advertisements

One Week in Fayetteville

Technically, yesterday was supposed to be my first day at Quaker House. But, at this moment (late Saturday night), I have been here exactly one week. Moving just works better on weekends than in the middle of the week, so everyone was in agreement that the switch would happen last Saturday.

There was food in that cooler on the right side
of the photo, thanks to the Osbornes of Spring Friends!

I am completely muscle-energy depleted, sleep-pattern jolted, and brain-wave scrambled. We crammed a 15-foot U-Haul and two cars full. I could not have done it without the incredible help I had from Carmen, Zac, Elizabeth and Ron. I will be forever grateful to them.

For now, I have gone from walking around mazes of boxes and items waiting to be packed to walking around mazes of boxes and items waiting to be put away. At the same time, I am trying to hit my stride in this new role, as quickly as possible.

The only bit of misalignment (that I know of) was when an evening gathering I assumed had been canceled for the week was not. I was just about to pull my car up closer to the garage to unload more stuff when I saw a person walking to my door. That required a quick re-calibration, but it all came together fine.

One of the unexpected joys I have found is when previous directors or their family members interact with one of my social media postings of photos of the house. Quaker House Directors live at the house. So, when I see their name pop up, I realize they have their own memories associated with that image. I have met three previous director units (directors or co-director couples) and some of their family members. It is a fun sense of continuity. It is also a bit comforting to think that they truly know what lies ahead for me.

As far as the mazes of unpacking and organizing that remain — I’m so glad Monday is Labor Day!