“Special Saturday,” Ensign, Apr. 1984, 69
I slipped into the chapel as quietly as I could, yet several heads turned to stare at me. I knew I was breathing as if I had just run the hundred-yard dash.
“This has got to stop,” I thought as I tried to calm myself by listening to the prelude music. I knew I was getting up early enough; still, there was always this mad dash to get to church on time. Where was I going wrong?
Then, as the music brought a calmness to my soul, I found myself remembering the little song I had sung so many times with Primary children: “Saturday is a special day, it’s the day we get ready for Sunday.” I recalled my own dear mother and the days of my childhood when all Sunday clothes were pressed on Saturday, the shoes polished, a batch of beans set to soak, and a cake made with one corner left un-iced, as my father didn’t like frosting.
When Sunday morning came, we donned our “Sunday best,” and the beans were set on the back of the wood and coal stove to cook slowly while mother and her brood of nine were off to Sunday School.
What great lessons we can learn from the past. Yes, Saturday has become a special day. It’s now the day my family gets ready for Sunday. Betty Lou Wintch, Tropic, Utah