Of course nobody even thought about the Herdmans in connection with the Christmas pageant. Most of us spent all week in school being pounded and poked and pushed around by Herdmans, and we looked forward to Sunday as a real day of rest.
“Now I want to live like everybody else. I want to have a wife like everybody else and to take her out on Sundays. I have invented a mask that makes me look like anybody. People will not even turn round in the streets. You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight.”
“I wasn’t allowed to do anything except the Lord’s work on a Sunday, but as I wasn’t a born again Christian, any of the Lord’s work I might do, like reading the Shangaan bible to Dee and Sun, wasn’t creating any bricks for my mansion in the sky.”
“The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday, that’s guaranteed.
And I can’t begin to explain that- or the craziness inside myself and everybody else, but guess what? Sunday is my fav day again”
On Sunday, winds come,
bringing a red dust, like prairie fire,
hot and peppery, searing the inside of my nose,
the whites of my eyes. Roaring dust,
turning the day from sunlight to midnight.
I read that God made man, and he made horses and all the other beasts, and as soon as He had made them He made a day of rest, and bade that all should rest one day in seven; and I think, sir, He must have known what was good for them, and I am sure it is good for me;