Once upon a time, Fridays were absolutely beautiful things to be celebrated unabashedly, by hanging out with friends or spending money on going out, or just curling up with a good book and the knowledge that the weekend was upon us. This is because, once upon a time, the weekend was a break from the daily grind and humdrum of life.
But no more. My kids don't sleep in, just because it's Saturday. They don't go and hide in their rooms just because it's Friday evening, nary making a peep. The house does not miraculously refrain from attracting clutter or dirty dishes. Dinner arrives at the table without preparation only if Ben or I have picked up a pizza or chinese take-out.
When I was on my mission in France, Fridays dissolved into the missionary work I was doing. The one thing that resembled a Friday night was the night before our Preparation Day, a day set aside for laundry and shopping and cleaning and site-seeing. In our mission we referred to it as Pagan's Eve. Not really appropriate in a pragmatic or semantic sense, but even missionaries need to add a little spice to their existence, and this was our mild way of doing that (snicker, snicker, we were so clever).
For 18 months I gave up those weekends for a higher purpose. I gave up those weekends and as well as numerous other things I enjoyed so that I could devote myself to sharing the Gospel of Christ with others. Was it always fun? No way. Was it worth it? Oh, yes.
Once again, my weekends are a bit more ambiguous. They are different to some extent, but the work doesn't end. Welcome to the life of a grown up. And in my case, welcome to motherhood, and the responsibilities of family life. Worth it? Yes. Always fun? Heee, hee, hee, heee, haa, ha, ha, ha, hee! No. Sometimes it's a bummer.
Still, it is Friday.
And still, Friday seems to hold, at least in theory, the idea of a reprieve from the norm. With that in mind, I wish you all a very happy Friday.