Perfect Weekend

I wrote this two weeks ago and finally got around to publishing it.  I guess I too am suffering from that don't post unless it's perfect syndrome.  If that's the case, it ain't never gonna happen!

I have often said that the perfect weekend would be three days. One would be to do chores and errands, one to visit with family and friends and one day to just plain relax. I got lucky this past weekend and had it one better, a four day weekend. Lovely!

On Thursday we celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary. Fifteen years! It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long and sometimes it feels like it’s been longer. Not in a bad way. But in a good way. Like life always included Himself. Anything before doesn’t count. But it did because it made us who we are and made us ready for each other.

Wow, I digress. Not where I was going with this.  

Anyways, back to the perfect weekend. Thursday we went to an art show at a local historic mansion. The estate originally was built by the founder of one of the larger tire manufacturers in the country and was later deeded over as a park of sorts. Oh to have a bottomless bag of money! There were so many pretty, pretty things for sale.
  
Friday we went for a drive down to Amish country and had a leisurely and delicious lunch at an inn that is the most un-Amish of places in the area. It’s tucked back in some rolling hills among a thick stand of woods. We had planned on walking the trails afterwards but the rain put a damper on that. That’s okay, we were rewarded with delicate kitty kisses from the local calico instead.

Saturday was the chore and errand day. Half a bushel of beets waited to be processed and canned. We’ll be eating a lot of beets this winter.  

The icing on the weekend, though, came on Sunday morning. Late Saturday we made last minute plans with Sis to go to mass with them. Sis and BIL live about 45 minutes away and the last time we were at their church was for Sara’s baptism more than a year ago.  

Sis often tells me that Sara can be a bit of a handful in church. She’s fifteen months old, that’s what she does. She wants to move and see and do. But from the Gospel on she settled nicely in Uncle Himself’s arms and was a perfect little angel. At the sign of peace she held out her arms to me and I had her to the end.  

And then best part of the weekend happened. I got to receive the Eucharist with my Goddaughter in my arms. How perfect is that!


AMDG!