Wearing Sundays best on Tuesday.

I used to think Sunday was a day of the week.
A slow morning. A pretty dress. A seat in the third row.

But lately, I’ve been learning how to wear Sunday out on each day.

Not the clothes—
but the calm.
The reverence.
The quiet hope that hums under the surface, even when life is loud.

Sometimes, Sunday doesn’t look like church pews and worship songs.
It’s whispered prayers between tears.
A deep breath at the kitchen sink.
A sacred pause in a hospital hallway.
A moment of stillness when the world keeps spinning.

We don’t always show up for Sunday service—
Sometimes, we’re present, but not fully there.
Yet, Sunday’s peace can still find its way into us.

He meets us in the mess.
He sits with us in the silence.
He covers us in rest, even when the rhythm of life won’t slow down.

This space is called Wearing Sunday because it’s more than a blog.
It’s a soft place to land.
It’s for the ones who are healing and holy at the same time.
It’s where grief and grace meet.
Where we dress ourselves in peace, even when we feel undone.

I don’t have all the answers.
But I do have words.
And a heart that believes God is in the details—the fabric of our everyday.
Not just on Sunday. But always.

Welcome to Wearing Sunday.

“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.”
— Proverbs 31:25