Today was a real Sabbath.

We finally got our first significant snowfall for the year, in the form of a huge winter snow that cancelled church services, and left us home with nothing to do on a Sunday.

It could have gone either way. Often, when all the kids are home on weekends, the noise and fighting increase. With no structure to their day other than quiet time, they can end up engaging in attention-seeking behaviors with both their siblings and their parents.

Today was different. The snow drew the kids outside early, and kept drawing them out all day. They would come in and warm up, then go back out again, lining their boots with bread bags to keep dry.

One negotiated a day off of being grounded so he could go earn money shoveling snow.

The little boys were content to hang out indoors for the most part. One of two kids competing for his parents’ attention for much of the day, Six regaled us with long, meandering tales that featured frequent refrains of “and then….”. I read him stories, and then the Chaplain did, not knowing I just had. Six basked in the attention.

Seven cuddled, played contentedly, and late in the afternoon, launched himself off of the sofa and landed on his face. Then he cuddled some more until he recovered.

The middle kids continued to come in and out, and at quiet time, subdued by all the time outdoors, they were actually quiet.

I sat on the sofa under a warm blanket and read my book. We watched part of a movie, and I got in a meditation. I dozed for a bit.

There was morning and evening shoveling.

We ended the day with a walk at dusk for the parents while the kids had some unexpected Sunday screen time. While they relaxed together under blankets watching Are We There Yet? for the millionth time, the Chaplain and I trudged through snowbanks and crunched satisfyingly along snow-bound sidewalks. I ran down a snowy hill with my arms outstretched. We used other people’s footholds to traverse the mounds of snow between the sidewalk and the road at intersections. We laughed at ourselves, frozen mid-stride, with boots lined up one in front of the other in the deep footprints while we waited for the light to change.

While we were out, Two started dinner without being asked.

After the walk, back in the warm house, something started chirping. After an extended search, we found out it was a carbon monoxide detector. We had a working one up on the wall that was silent; this one had been in storage in the office and unexpectedly came to life.

Without our prompting, One organized an evacuation, while watching videos on YouTube on how to identify symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning. We checked our hot water heater’s vent to outside, which has gotten buried in the snow in the past. The vent was clear of snow and working fine.

It turns out the detectors chirp when the battery is dying. By the time we figured everything out, 4-5 out of the 7 kids were convinced they were having symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning. It was the most exciting thing that happened all day besides Seven’s face plant.

After a lovely dinner of comfort food, we settled everyone in bed and had a quiet evening.

As parents of young kids, days of quiet and rest are infrequent. Since the Chaplain works at the church, a Sunday of rest basically never happens. We have to settle for moments, or an hour here, a part of a day there. Today was a whole day of just being home.

You can’t plan days like today. It was a gift. Tomorrow, the Chaplain is back to work, the kids who go to school will be home for the holiday, and although the snow was tempting today, it will likely be too frigid to enjoy tomorrow.

This day of rest will probably have to last a while. That’s OK. We made the most of it while it was here.