On Sunday: The Sabbath Rest

Misty's mother was up at dawn, bathed and dressed in her Sunday best, by the time Misty got up. One by one, all of the other children jumped out of bed too, and her mother helped each one of them get ready for Sunday School.

"How does she do it all?" Misty wondered, as she set the table. Her mother was busy preparing breakfast for everyone. "She always amazes me. I never hear a word of complaint from her either. She loves us all so much. I think she must be an angel."

"Breakfast!" said her father excitedly, as he smelled fresh, hot biscuits. He quickly got out of bed, washed his face, put on his Sunday clothes and headed for the kitchen, where everyone was at the table waiting for him. "Good morning, children!"

"Good morning, father!" the children chimed in unison. They were always delighted with his deep blue, twinkling eyes and happy smile. He normally had gentle words of wisdom for them and sometimes, even new nursery rhymes for the little ones.

"Remember that the Sabbath is a day of rest, children," Misty's father said quietly.

"Not so for our mother," thought Misty to herself. "A woman's work is never done."

"Children, have you memorized your Christmas concert verses yet? I will help you with them later. Your mother wants to go over your new, Christmas songs on the piano, so come right home after Sunday School."

"Yes, father," said one of the older boys. "Maybe we could all go out later this afternoon and cut down a Christmas tree? Please, Father!"

"We'll see!" he replied with a nod and a smile. He knew that meant trudging through a lot of snow with the children, but it would be fun for everyone. "I guess we can do that on Sunday."

"I don't think the baby should go into the nursery today, as he has a bit of a fever," said Misty's mother. She always had to go to Sunday School with the children, as she played piano for all of their functions. She enjoyed doing so and it gave her a break, too.

"Then, I will stay home with the baby," replied her father. "It is either me, or Misty." He looked at her, waiting for a response.

With so many small children, Misty's mom always had her hands full. Even though her father was very kind, he did not do any of the housework, dishes or cooking, but he would usually help to look after the children or do things with them, as that way they bonded.

"Maybe you should take care of the baby this morning, Father. I have to teach a Sunday School class, and there is no one else who can do it for me."

Her father looked relieved, as it meant that he could stay at home and relax. He was a hard worker and his only day off was Sunday.

Meanwhile, Misty's mother was putting a large roast in the oven for an early Sunday dinner, while Misty prepared the vegetables and cleared the table.

"We'll do the dishes after Sunday School, Father," she said. "The little girls can help me."

"We are not doing dishes," chimed one of the younger girls, intentionally taunting Misty. "We don't have to."

Misty's mom smiled, as she prepared cereal and a bottle for the baby.

"Everyone helps around here. Let the baby sleep as long as he wants to," she suggested to Misty's father. "I think he is cutting a new tooth, as he has had a very fretful night."

Misty's father agreed and went into the living room to re-stoke the fire in the fireplace. After re-filling his coffee mug, he sat down on the huge couch in front of the fire, while everyone else put on their coats and boots, and headed out the door for Sunday School.

"This is a king's life," he thought to himself. "If I take the children out to find a Christmas tree later, my wonderful wife can rest for a while, too." With that thought in mind, he put his feet up and soon drifted off to sleep.