I think I've really been missing out on past Sundays.
This is the first time in a long time that I've gotten up at a decent hour. Read a little scripture, went to my morning meeting, ate some lunch, played some hymns (well, if you use the term "played" loosely) on the piano, went to church, ate some food and found some ways to buoy people up a little while chatting with each other, watched the First Presidency Christmas Devotional, and now I'm writing about my Sunday.
That's quite the sentence. And isn't entirely the best composed sentence in the world. But it's mostly accurate. And more or less gets the point across.
And now I can be a "treasure trove of linguistic anomalies."
Back to my main point.
Sunday is a fantastic day! Ever since I decided I wouldn't do homework on Sunday (when I was in school) and keep myself from as many other issues of day to day life on earth as possible, it's become something of a refuge. Unless I let some of those cares and issues come into life on this day.
Which made me realize what a haven from unpleasantness a home can be, if I let it.
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