Dad - Sunday - Memories

Father's Day being on Sunday has brought back a lot of memories of what Sundays were like with my dad. Actually, I guess it started Saturday night with dad polishing shoes. When we were small, Saturday evenings Mom was washing and rolling my sisters and my hair, and dad was polishing every ones shoes. Come Sunday morning, he was up and dressed for church and had normally gone to get donuts, before I ever thought of getting out of bed. He loved going to church and his enthusiasm on Sunday mornings usually came a little earlier than I appreciated. He would be up, dressed, donuts on table, and radio blaring loud enough that we could hear it anywhere in the house, tuned to the local station, which was airing the local church services where some very unprofessional trios or soloists were singing some very old fashioned tunes. Especially during my adolescent, teen years, I had very little appreciation for this talent. Then, he would go to each of us kids rooms and knock on the wall outside our rooms to wake us up (I hated that) as he was telling us to get up. When we were up, fed, dressed and heading out the door he always made sure we had our offering. After I grew up and left home, Sunday mornings just didn't seem the same without dads enthusiasm and Sunday morning routine. When my kids were small, he would often come over to my house on Sunday mornings and help me get them ready for church. What a great dad! I never could understand how anybody could not want to go to church. Maybe it was partly because dad made it such an important, exciting event at our house.And it still does not seem right to get dressed for church without that radio blaring and donuts on the table.