If I Hadn't Known It Was Sunday

I must admit that last Sunday was a strange day. Really, if I hadn’t known it was Sunday, I wouldn’t have actually known it was Sunday. There were none of the usual signs, symbols, or rituals.  There was no indication that it was a sabbath day for the purpose of particular Christian practice.  Well, I guess it was a sabbath of sorts...

It was all set into motion by the fact that we finally moved into our manse in Thatcham on that Friday (August 22).  We joined all of our boxes and suitcases, which had been waiting on us for two weeks, and we began to envision the house for ourselves.  We realized very quickly that we would need to make our first pilgrimage to Ikea.

With no official obligations for the Sunday, we did what was most unusual for us.  We made plans for this side journey and traveled the one hour and fifteen minutes to Bristol (much like the distance between Glenville and Asheville).

We caught our first glimpse of the blue and yellow box building, as we motored along the dual carriageway towards Bristol's town centre.  It was well-positioned exactly as the map indicated, but we could see absolutely no way to access it.  And then it faded into the distance.  (For those of you from High Point or the Triad of North Carolina, it is rather like trying to get to Hanes Mall going east on I-40 in Winston-Salem.  It can't been done easily.)

After a short tour of Bristol, we proceeded onto the carriageway headed in the opposite direction, and once again, we saw the bright yellow and blue in the horizon.  This time an exit appeared, and so we proceeded into the car park.  We happily found a parking space very near the entrance in the designated family parking area (thank you Ikea), and we unloaded, organized, and embarked upon the practices of this particular sabbath day.

Without hesitation, we followed the meticulous directions and fell into line with the thousands of other people on this sabbath journey (yes, thousands and thousands--at least half of south England it seemed).  We carefully let the arrows guide us through the massive showroom--living room to bedroom to kitchen to children's space.

We deliberated, made our decisions, and moved with the masses to the self-service warehouse where we would retrieve our furniture-to-be.  We navigated the trolleys filled with furniture and accessories, the stroller with the two year old, and ourselves to the end of the line.  We followed the final few arrows.  We avoided the last of the crowds.  And we came to the other side of this sabbath day pilgrimage.

It was a very strange day away from the signs, symbols, and rituals of particular Christian practice.  And somehow in the midst of thousands of people in this self-service world, we were really our own little island.  We didn't engage or interact.  We just shopped and shopped.  I guess these are the rituals of an Ikea pilgrimage.  There is no doubt that, if I hadn't known it was Sunday, I wouldn't have know it was Sunday.