Summer Sundays

Perhaps the idea of going to church on a sunny summer morning is not your idea of fun. Far be it from me to convince you otherwise.

When I was not much past toddlerhood, we lived next to a small white church and one Sunday when my parents slept a little late, I dressed myself and trotted off to church. I don’t remember much else except that it wasn’t the last time my little sister and I attended there. It became somewhat of a Sunday routine.

I grew up and had kids of my own. Sunday mornings meant piling into the baby blue, 11 passenger, Ford Econoline and heading off to the church where my husband grew up. Sometimes we didn’t make it far from home before the heights of upset were too great even for our gracious Christian family to bear so I would make the unilateral decision to can church and stay home. It was the exception rather than the rule so church routine formed an important part of our family tradition.

We are now empty-nesters and church-going is a quiet and orderly affair.

Since moving to Ladysmith, we attend a little country church just south of us in Chemainus. It’s called Calvary Baptist and we are beginning to feel at home there. Sunday mornings at 10:00 we gather with 150 locals singing hymns, celebrating the love of God we have come to know and count on, listening to a sermon (yes, they still do that!) and just being a part of a believing community.

On occasion we drive to Cedar and take in the Farmer’s Market at the Crow and Gate English Pub where we top off the afternoon lounging in their glorious gardens and eating shrimp caesar salad to our hearts’ content.

It seems funny to hang out at a pub after church, but times are a’changing and for the record, the extent of our beverage indulgence is homemade lemonade, not that I need to explain myself (ahem).

Welcome Summer!