Pancakes and Motorcycles and God

What are your Sundays for?

Sunday. Dimanche. Domingo. Sonntag. Dies Solis. Domenica. For those of you that read Of a Sober Mind regularly, you might be surprised by this Sunday posting. I’m trying some different frequencies to accommodate an upcoming summer schedule of travel. And because—well—I just like to change stuff that gets too routine.

Enjoy today’s light fare, and please enjoy your Sunday.

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The Lord calls Sunday the Sabbath. I’ve always had an interesting relationship with Sundays. As a child, Sunday was full of church and family and a rest from school and sports which filled up the rest of the week. Saturdays were usually yardwork and games or tournaments depending on the sports season I was participating in at the time.

Much of my work career in sports and events held Sunday as a primary workday. In the worlds of ski racing, golf, and beach volleyball where I plied most of that part of my career, Sundays were the finals. While others might be waking up late following a late Saturday night, I’d be up early prepping for the long day of work. Then it was an airplane ride and a late-night arrival back to the comforts of home for a few days of weekday days off.

Later, after I’d established my company, Sundays often involved preparing for a late-night Sunday—or early Monday morning flight—jetting off to begin meetings and pitches in a different city.

I didn’t do hangovers. Professional drinkers like I used to be will understand what I mean by this. When you drink every night there isn’t a big difference between Tuesday mornings and Sunday mornings. Those days are gone, and I arise each day with a fresh attitude of gratefulness and hope.

It has only been in recent years following my retirement from fulltime work that I’ve begun to enjoy and understand Sundays for what they really are—or should be—a day of rest and recreation of my choosing.

The term "Sabbath" comes from the Hebrew word "Shabbat," which means rest or cessation. The Sabbath is observed as a day of rest and worship, a time for spiritual renewal, communal worship, and a break from the regular routines of work. The specific practices associated with the Sabbath can differ significantly between religious communities and denominations. For my Sundays now—largely homegrown without a formal religious component—I honor the day as one free of obligations to anyone other than myself or my loved ones.

Ann and I start the day at our favorite local cafe with a breakfast routine. We often sit alone, surrounded by the server “family” we’ve adopted due to our frequency. Often, we’ll find other couples with whom we’re friendly and join them at their tables. When the weather suits us, we’ll start the breakfast journey early on the big Indian motorcycle that we love to ride together. Sunday breakfast for me consists of blueberry pancakes slathered in butter and syrup with a side of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. For Ann it’s a bit different fare, but we both let down our guard a bit at Sunday breakfast by indulging in food that satisfies outside of our stricter weekday diets.

Following breakfast, we’ll take a jaunt around the Texas Hill Country, bombing out to Comfort or Susanville or Johnson City or Gruene. Sunday mornings are a perfect day to ride the backroads through the country, mainly because many others are dutifully sitting in church pews and are off the roads. Sometimes we’ll linger and have lunch and take in some live music at one of the many venues offering such entertainment.

Since our individual and shared spiritual practices happens each and every day, Sundays are not directed any differently in such pursuits but are rather deeper explorations in shared time together without responsibilities to work or volunteering for the many organizations we’ve committed to.

Then it’s home to lounge around the house and yard with our kids—the doggies. Reading my book of the week, catching up with my favorite Substack authors, napping, watching my Broncos or PGA golf (an excellent napping activity), and a leisurely dinner together.

What does your Sunday look like?

How does it differ from Sundays at different stages in your life?

Do you ever experience the Sunday dreads? IYKYK.