As a child, I loved weekends. As an adult, weekends…eh…

We use weekends as a dumping ground: Time to do all the chores, all the running around, all the stuff we couldn’t do or get done during the week. Check out any major city these days and you’ll find freeways as busy on Saturday and Sunday as they are on Tuesday and Friday. Weekends deserve to be sacred… Downright precious. Time to relax and kick back. Take the edge off. Place our hands in our gardens, the soil. Feel that earth connectedness. Take a drive to visit a loved one. A hurting one. Attend a place of worship. To worship the one who makes the soil for our garden which helps our hands to connect with earth and nature. No, weekends don’t just happen. They are made and grown. Downright special.