I am not a religious person. Not to be clichė, but I struggle with mainstream, organized religion. While I pray, occasionally read the Bible, and more frequently read religious theory, I rarely go to church. But lately, I have been drawn to the sanctity of the Sabbath.

Even back in college, I admired my Jewish friends’ celebration of the Sabbath. No television. No chores. There was time to slow down, talk, laugh, breathe, think/pray/whatever your inclination is.

Until recently, our Sundays were the anti-Sabbath. RUN! CLEAN! HYPER-VENTILATE! Sundays were no fun. Stressful. Overwhelming. Until about a month ago, I never really liked Sundays.

I’m not saying that a higher power has guided me to a Sabbath. Maybe She/He/It has. All I know is that I know cherish that our Sundays are all about our little family.

Today, we headed to Blandford Nature Center. The center was part of my childhood. A wonderful friend recently reminded me of its beauty. It is the kind of place that makes children fall in love with the outdoors– and reminds adults that offices are wildly overrated.

Bambino romped with his best friend.

We found acorns.

Il Cane discovered toads in the meadow. We laughed. We hiked. No one looked at their email.

It was a good day.