Sleepwalking Through Sundays

It's time for church. Your mother's voice travels up the stairs and wakes you from the fog of sleep. She wants to know if you'll eat breakfast at home. As you slip back into the fog, you begin to dream of the doughnuts waiting for you at church. The traditional glazed doughnuts, ones with chocolate frosting, and your personal favorite, chocolate cake doughnuts. You smile to yourself as you think of how good one of the sugary breakfast treats would be paired with a glass of milk. That's when your mom's voice disturbs you once more and you remember her warning. "You really should start eating healthier, you won't be 17 forever." You call down with the answer you know your mother wants to hear. You'll have whatever she's having.

You drag yourself to the bathroom and get in the shower. As the hot water hits your face, you entertain the idea of sneaking a doughnut once you get to church. Don't be silly, mom would find out and suggest doing more sit ups. After about 20 minutes you get out of the shower and wipe the steam from the mirror. You take a good, hard look at yourself. Your blue eyes stare back at you and for a second, it feels like your mind is playing tricks on you. You like what you see in the mirror. You can't seem to find the imperfections like your mom does. But she's never wrong. They must be there somewhere, so you continue to analyze the girl staring back at you for a bit longer, willing yourself to see her through your mom's eyes.

You move back to your bedroom and open your closet. There's a brand new top that you've been itching to wear. You throw it on with a pair of jeans and heeled boots. Examining your ensemble in the mirror, you remember why you bought the top in the first place. It looks great on you and the heels compliment the shirt quite nicely. You smile and give yourself a sly wink in the mirror before heading downstairs to the kitchen. Your mom comes around the corner and does a quick double take at you. So you ask her opinion of the outfit. She looks you up and down and says, "That looks nice." Now anyone else might see this as a normal, positive response. You know better than that. Her face says it all. It's the same face you pull when you open your Christmas present and don't get what you want but try to be thankful anyways. So, you head back upstairs and change into a dress and flats you know your mother loves. If mom's happy, you're happy. Right?

Everyone piles in the van to travel the five minutes across town to the church. You're greeted by the smiling face of the old gentleman who passes out the bulletins every Sunday. You walk through the building, a big grin plastered across your face. When you reach the room where your Sunday school class takes place, you pause for a beat and take a look around. You realize that there isn't a single person in the building who isn't smiling. At first, it feels like a dream. Everyone here is happy to be here, but when you remember that your own smile is fake, you think this might just be a nightmare.

These thoughts consume your during the main service. Is everyone in this room faking it too? You sing along to the hymns, sway back and forth with the music, drum your fingers on the pew in front of you. You love this song, but for the first time, you actually really listen to the words. "When I fall down you pick me up. When I am dry you fill my cup. You are my all in all." Was that true? Honestly what does that really even mean?

After church concludes, it's time to go home and have dinner with your parents, your brother, and his family. You give your niece a hug as you walk into the house. She's your oldest niece and quite honestly your pride a joy. You hope she'll stick with volleyball and become a hitter just like you. You cherish these Sundays where everyone's together at the house. For some reason you only see your bother and the rest of his household on Sundays even though you only live 5 blocks away from one another. I guess it's the same as your other siblings. One is 45 minutes away, one is three hours away, and the other is five hours away. At least you see them on holidays… and Facebook.

Dinner is amazing, as per usual. Your mother is a fabulous cook. This Sunday's feast consists of chicken fried steak, gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, rolls, and mom's famous red velvet cake for dessert. Everyone's having a grand time. You talk about the game coming up this week, you laugh at your youngest niece who refuses to try the chicken fried steak because she "doesn't like it" even though she's never tried it before in her life, and as you reach for another spoonful of potatoes, you see your mom giving you that look from across the table. You retract your hand and pretend you just changed you mind. You opt for a small spoonful of corn instead. You decide to skip dessert too.

After dinner comes naps. Everyone moves to the living room. Dad snoozes in his recliner. Your brother turns on the game. Your youngest niece plays with dolls on the floor. You decide to grab the book you're reading and curl up on the love seat. If lazy Sundays were an Olympic sport, your family would win a gold medal. After church is over, the rest of the day always consists of sleeping and eating. You try to think of a Sunday where this didn't happen. That's when you realize you can't. Every single Sunday of your life has gone just like today. They will probably continue to go this way as well. You begin to fear that you may be stuck in some fake happy cycle for the rest of your life. Is it better to have no happiness at all or to be sleep walking through your Sundays in fake happiness?