When I was young, Sundays were celebrated as a day of rest. Stores were closed. You didn’t play outside with your friends. That part was boring. So boring.

One went to church in the morning. You wore your Sunday best clothing. You took more time to look your best. My mother tried to curl my hair. In the damp weather, it lasted for a hour or so. 

After church was the Sunday dinner. It was more festive. Nicer food also. Even meat and a dessert! 

In the afternoon we would visit relatives. We didn’t have a lot of those in the Netherlands, because Mamma was from Germany. Still, we had two aunts. Wilhelmina, my father’s sister. And Agnes, my mother’s sister. We usually went to Tante Wilhelmina’s. Tante Agnes usually came to us. Not all at the same time, of course.

I had always wanted to give those experiences to my children. But I couldn’t, because we were immigrants, too. Life for them was so different. Society is different now, too. 

Nonetheless, we celebrate Sundays and praise the Lord.