Ok…So today is Sunday, the day of rest…LOL
We very rarely rest on Sundays these days. In fact it’s one of my busiest days where I seem to cram every little thing I have not managed to do into the one day that Mr Locoman is around to help me.
I got to thinking about Sundays as a kid.
They seemed so different to how they are now. None of the shops were open, so the only things really to do were go to Church and the park.
My Mom was a Sunday school teacher in the Anglican/Methodist Church that we grew up in.
My Dad didn’t have a faith back then, and boy did this cause some interesting Sundays…giggle
Those who follow my blog
Will know that my Dad is diagnosed with Autism. Also I have Aspergers syndrome.
My Mom as far as I’m aware was neuro typical. In other words, I just hate to say this folks but, this is how the world perceives it, my Mom was “normal”
I never really got on with my Dad, we are too alike and he has never come to terms with his differences. So, he has never really enjoyed the parts of me that are like him. AND…I am VERY like him.
I understand this now I’m an adult but when I was a kid I never really understood the rejection I felt from my Dad. My Mom always made me feel loved, she didn’t always understand me but I felt loved.
So Sunday Church services…OMGOODNESS
At around 7 years of age, Mom always gave us the option come to Church with me or stay home with your Dad. It was a very simply choice for me to make…of course I was going with my Mom. My Dad ignored me and spent every Sunday under his car or inventing things in a shed.
If Mom was teaching the Sunday school I was so happy to be in there, she made it so much fun.
If NOT I would scream the place down. Poor Brown Owl she hadn’t got a clue how to control me…bless her.
So Mom would take me into big Church where I would quite happily sit under the chairs/pews doing my colouring and avoiding ALL cheek pinchers.
On the rare occasion that my Dad would come to Church with us, he would never stay afterwards for time of fellowship.
He would be quite nasty to my Mom about her need to talk, “unnecessary chit-chat!” my dad would call it.
None of us understood back then that my Dad had Autism and he found socialising so very hard.
I was ok, I was under the pews hiding with my brother and our box of coloured beads. My Mom was a very friendly person and loved to chat and make new friends. In the week days, when dad was at work, she very often would have so many people pop round for tea and biscuits and Bible study.
I would be quite naughty sometimes, I didn’t like these people taking my Moms attention from me. I remember spitting in the tea cups and putting bogies inside the custard creams. Then sitting there in delight as these people digested my disgusting behaviour. ASD kid fighting back…LOL
Now I’m an adult Aspie
As a child I learnt to mimic and imitate most of my Mom behaviour. I spent so much time with my Mom, up to the age of 12, that I became her shadow. I remember watching how she stood, watching her hands and facial expressions as she talked and copying her.
The people she talked to thought I was being rude and disrespectful, my Mom never once told me off for doing this. Very often she would put people in their place, and then avoid spending time with those who pointed these things out.
Now I can see!
I can understand now why my Dad found Church such hard going. God was softening his heart and the sermons he heard were challenging enough, without all the over stimulation from the mass of Christian fellowship afterwards.
At Church I can cope most weeks with having tea and chatting with other Church goers, I grew up in this, I can ACT like my Mom. but some weeks when I don’t feel close to God or the sermon has challenged the socks off me, I just have to come home. I need to process my thoughts in prayer, sometimes I need to shutdown and just stay in the quiet. I am learning not to pretend anymore, I don’t have to fit, I just need to learn how to be myself. I know with God’s help and guidance I will one day be me to the full.
So today is Sunday…the day of rest.
What were your Sundays like as a kid?