Kris grew up in a household where Sunday card playing was frowned upon. I grew up in a household where Sunday afternoon was time to visit family (Kris too - and she keeps that by calling home every Sunday).
Not extreme examples, but both examples of the kind of Swedish pietism - and German pietism - that was part of our family's histories. We weren't part of the don't drink, smoke or chew or go with the girls that do pietists - well maybe that go with the girls part applied - but we both grew up in households where the pietist more was strong.
Sunday was a day for Church, for a big family lunch, and for not working. We did not work. Ever. I cannot remember my father ever doing a household chore on Sunday - though he did have to go to work on many Sundays (when you work swing shifts you work some Sundays).
Here I am, ready to go to the hospital for surgery on Wednesday (to KC on Tuesday for MRI and MD appointment). I had to get the front porch painted today. I painted thru the pain and got it done in about an hour's work. I had to remind myself that I was pretty much pulling my ox out of ditch on a Sunday and it was OK.
Kris has been working in the kitchen all afternoon. She's cleaned behind the stove, set the oven on self clean, the four hour cycle, and now she's cleaning the vegetable and meat drawers (and behind) in the fridge. And I have this little voice in the back of my head saying "that's not right!"
I know, I know. All days alike are days to praise God. All days alike are days when our honest labor praises our creator. Pietism was mostly a show and sometimes a fraud for most of us. Sometimes you just have to get your ox out of the ditch on the Sabbath.
But the voices in my head are sneaky, quiet, and insistent. I can't ignore them, I guess I just have to have a little chat with them - where I tell them to pipe down!