Sunday mornings have always been special to me. The vibe is different. It’s always fun and calm and effortless.

This morning I was walking around the house doing random tasks. Putting dishes away, switching around laundry, making coffee, aimlessly walking around out in the yard with the dogs, lighting candles in the living room, all kinds of calm, effortless things that make me smile.

It wasn’t until I sat down to start in on my morning writing that I started thinking about WHY I love Sundays, what makes them different, and it hit me; this stems back to my childhood.

When I was a kid, Sundays were always THE BEST days. My Dad was always off work and home with us. We would all sleep in. But when we did get up, there was no rushing or crazy agenda. We would stay in our PJ’s, we would make yummy breakfast, we would talk about our week. My mom was always up before anyone. I remember we had this little white radio mounted under the kitchen cabinets above the counter top and it was always on, playing the local country music station.

I promise you I could go over to my parents house right now and that radio is on and my mom’s messing around with something in the kitchen. Different year, different dog running around the house but the same vibes.

Looking back at my childhood, I’m so grateful for our Sundays. I’m grateful that my parents didn’t raise us to be “rushing around” all the time. They allowed us to enjoy our life. They allowed us to do our own thing.

I’m pretty sure that the white radio playing country music every Sunday morning is probably the soul reason that my brother still hates country to this day, but even though he won’t ever admit it, I’m sure that memory about our childhood makes him smile just the same.

Sundays were also days with my grandparents. After we all got up and had our lazy Sunday mornings and breakfast together, we would load up in the car and head to see Grandma and Grandpa. Their house was the same way. No agenda, always calm and comforting.

Wait, it just hit me… that “calm” sense I keep referring to is LOVE. That feeling I was trying to explain is that of pure, honest, no strings attached, LOVE. You could feel it when you walked into either of those homes. I can honestly feel it right now just thinking about it.

I wrote a few years ago about “The house that built me” as a tribute to the house and legacy that my grandparents built for me and my family and today I feel it again. And because the universe is connected and always showing me signs I swear to you, that about 1 minute ago, right now as I write this rocking in the chair in my living room, with the local country station on the radio, that song just came on. I shit you not. Miranda Lamberts, The house that built me is playing in the back ground right this moment.

I’m not sure what else I can even say.

You see, I have so much proof that the universe delivers when you need it. It delivers you proof that you are on the right track and sometimes it delivers you reminders. Reminders that yes, you just connected with the true root of the lesson or situation. Like reassurance that it all has come full circle in that exact moment.

I’m so grateful for these gifts.

I’m grateful for the memories.

I’m grateful for both of the houses that built me.

I’m grateful for my mom and my Sunday morning memories.

And I’m grateful that the love she instilled into these mornings has stuck with me for over 30 years and remain one of my favorite moments of the week.

 Happy Sunday friends.

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