Sublimity in a Sunday

December 6, 2009

Today is Sunday. In my opinion, Sundays happen to be the best day of the week because I get to spend it with the people I love the most: God, my family and my soon-to-be-husband. I could not ask for more. And I realize that I am a lucky person, fortunate if you will, in the sense of my life and that regardless if I have considered certain events to be terrible or depressing, I have nothing to complain about really, because I know that I am just beginning this hopefully long cycle of life, long in the sense of duration for I hope to make it a good life. I hope I can look back at these days that I am living and know that even though I may have made a stupid decision or even though I sinned or even though I decided to slack off, I didn’t do that forever and I made amends with my Creator and kept trying; that is what keeps me going because I know that in asking for forgiveness, I will be alright and things can only get better if I keep trying.

Today is Sunday. That means church and I can honestly say that I look forward to going so that I can sing and worship and hear the word of the Lord while knowing that my loved ones are right next to me listening and rejoicing at the word of the Lord, our most Glorious God. I get to pray, and share that experience closely with a bunch of strangers at church, although we are considered a community, a family in God. To be honest, I am still waiting to have that feeling truly surge through my being, that feeling of community within the community, that feeling to be found outside of the comfort of my loved ones. I am waiting to find the community of the Lord because for now I feel as if I am the only one; where are my brothers and sisters?

Today is Sunday. That means that I can drive because I am back in my home in Queens, away from my dorm in the city, and can feel the pavement of common life under the wheels of my mom’s jeep, instead of feeling the cold concrete of the city under my Converses. I can drive, even if it is just for the five minutes that it takes from my house on 73rd street to the church on 61st street, because it is worth the wait of a whole week to be able to feel in control once again behind the wheel. It is a beautiful feeling once you get over the fear of having to be in complete control which could possibly mean injuring yourself and others on the road; once you get over that, it’s a simple thing and easy to manage.

Today is the first Sunday of December, and that means receiving holy communion, and rejoicing in and remembering the greatest sacrifice made by our Savior, that he came, is here and will come again to redeem us all and forgive us for all the crap we have done, still do, and will do. How beautiful it feels knowing that the greatest love is there for you to just take if you so find it in your heart to choose so. After church, I drove back from 61st street to 73rd street and parked perfectly right in front of our house where I have spent many a long and lonely night thinking about life, questioning where I am in it, where I want to be in it, and what I want to do with it. I parked perfectly right in front of our house and as soon as I stepped out of my mom’s jeep, I saw a dead bird on the pavement right in front of the right wheel. Its head had been squished and the coagulated blood sat on the pavement glistening in the Sunday sun while the rest of its body was perfectly plump and seemingly pregnant with life. My mom pointed it out to me and began to examine it closer. My sister made a sinister joke about it. I gasped and turned away; I couldn’t stand to look at it.

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