Oh happy day. Indeed, it was. Even though, or let’s say, especially because being a weekend at my parent’s home is an endless loop of traditions. Something new every day? Difficult in my hometown, where I lived for 18 years. But as I mentioned in my about-me-text, a new thing is just a point of view. And sometimes you have to use the opportunities.
When my mum asked me to join her for a gospel concert in the church, I have to admit, I wasn’t totally freaked out. But after a traditional morning with a relaxed family breakfast, porcelain painting with my niece and nephew (it wasn’t our first time indeed) and apple dumplings for lunch, I thought I have to use the gospel opportunity. Besides it allowed me some quality time with my niece, my godchild.
It wasn’t my first gospel concert, but my first one in the church of my home town. The church where I celebrated my confirmation, where I played Maria in the christmas story and where I carried the cross at burials. Many memories. The gospel concert was one out of the storybook: they choire wore red robes, smiled from one ear to the other and sung all the famous songs: let it shine, amazing grace, oh happy day and so on. Only the thuringian audience wasn’t as easy to motivate as the american one. The Grandmommys in the first row preferred crossing arms instead of clapping hands. It didn’t mean, they didn’t enjoy the concert. We’re just an introverted folk.
My day couldn’t end more traditional than with some friends in our hometown cocktail bar. Oh happy day. Amen!