Sunday Mornings

by David Brown

110 years ago today, my grandfather, George Alfred Brown was born. He passed on in 1974 which was my first experience with loss and death. As I thought of him a few moments ago I began to recall Sunday mornings at different stages of my life thus far and thought I'd share some of those random thoughts here.

35 years ago, I spent every other weekend with my aforementioned Granddad. He would take me for a walk around his neighborhood in Ocean View and tell me stories as we strolled along. These walks would always lead us to a little soda fountain where he would buy me a root beer float. This is one of my fondest early childhood memories.

30 years ago, I would be putting on the vestment of an acolyte at St. Paul's Episcopal Church preparing to fulfil my role in the processional and lighting the candles at the altar for the start of the liturgy. This made me feel significant and important. I hoped to one day earn the position of carrying the large staff with the cross at the head of the procession. We stopped going to church before that day came.

25 years ago, the morning light trying to make its way through the heavily curtained windows of my bedroom would send me deeper beneath the covers. I had become quite the creature of the night and would make every effort not to emerge from sleep until the sun had passed the midpoint of the sky.

20 years ago...coffee, newspaper, and the best omelettes in the world at Charlie's.

15 years ago...coffee, newspaper, and occasional exchanged glances with my first wife at Shoney's. It was a ruse...we were already drifting apart.

10 years ago, Sunday mornings were bright and beautiful. The love of my life and I would be fawning over our amazing baby boy...laughing, singing, loving, while we got ready to go to church which was an entirely different experience from the pomp and pageantry I'd tried to be a part of as a child.

5 years ago, I'd be getting ready for work or getting ready for church all the while hoping to somehow be the best husband and father I could be that day...knowing child #3 was on the way and I needed to be a better provider than ever.

This Sunday morning, It's my weekend with my kids. I've fed them leftover krispy kreme donuts for breakfast, wrangled nine dachshunds in and out of their pen, pulled a load of clothes from the dryer, loaded the dishwasher, etc. It's difficult to sit still and not DO something because thats when the voices start. The ones that tell me I've failed...that remind me of everything I've done wrong. And then, I remember walking hand in hand with my Granddad, feeling safe in his presence. I refocus...the rest of this day is about my kids...loving them...making them feel safe in my presence.

Next Sunday morning, I believe I will go for a walk with my Father...let Him take me by the hand...and listen to His voice...His stories. I will believe what He says about me.