I love Sundays. A whole lot. I always have and I always will. Like any other day, I have a "Sunday routine". Oddly enough, it's the day that I allow myself the smallest amount time to look cute and I somehow always look my best. But that's really not the point. I love my church. I love the fellowship, the worship, the teaching. I've been at this particular church since I was in third grade and it's become home to me.
Every Sunday after the morning service, I go out for Mexican food with my parents and two other families. Usually, there are between 11 and 14 of us. Today was no exception. We all smoosh together with absolutely no regards for personal space and we've been known to steal food and blow straw wrappers across the table. We are always the loud, obnoxious bunch and I can't count how many times we've gotten angry glances for our noise level. I guess that's what happens when you get a group of "young-uns" together with their parents.
Today, we didn't sit at a collection of tables pushed together like we normally do. Instead, we were seated at two large booths. The "kid" table (ages 5-19) had eight of us today. And we spent the entire meal recounting games of cut-throat mafia. (If you don't know what that is, well, that's terrible. Because it's ridiculously cool. It's kinda like regular mafia, but better!) It was entirely random and hilarious, and the descriptions were rather detailed. Yeah. We're a bunch of weirdos. But it's awesome.
There is something comfortable about Sunday lunch with these people. It's almost more than just a habit. It's practically a tradition. A weekly tradition. Whatever it is, I love it and I love those people!
Hebrews 10:25 NIV
Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another-and all the more as you see the Day approaching.