Ever since I was a little girl, my favorite time of the week was always Sunday afternoon. We’d come home from church to a home-cooked feast at my grandmother’s house, then either take a scenic Sunday drive as a family or I’d climb into our hammock and read a book. Even before I had a personal faith in Christ and knew anything about Sabbath rest, Sundays have been my time to savor life and to relax.

Now that the snows have gone away, Sundays in the South promise to have the same bucolic appeal. The week before last, Steve and I spontaneously left the church parking lot and headed toward the mountains. We drove past a spectacular waterfall and gorge (looking at it from the car window since we didn’t have the right shoes for hiking) and then entered America’s favorite highway, the Blue Ridge Parkway. Even now, before the spring wildflowers cover the hills, the panorama is spectacular. We stopped to explore a quaint mountain town, where we enjoyed a warm dinner to offset the dropping temperatures. All this was only a 45-minute drive from our town.

The skies dumped boatloads of water this past Sunday, so we opted out of a drive and decided to go to a local restaurant for lunch instead. There were so many to choose from. We settled on a restaurant bearing a sign reading "China/Japan." (Coming from a place known for its Asian food, we laughed at combining the cuisine of those two countries.) We passed by an Italian/Greek bistro and a fast-food place where you get half off if you show your church bulletin. Several places were closed for Sundays. Yet another restaurant offers Sunday dinners after church just like Grandmom made – pot roast, meat loaf, or turkey dinner with all the fixin’s.  

I think I’m going to like these lazy Southern Sundays.