Always on a Sunday

Today is Sunday which, in my family, means two things. Church, and pasta! For as long as I can remember, and even before that, my grandfather has made pasta and "gravy" (what we call pasta sauce, because it is made with meat) every Sunday. Well, nearly every Sunday.
He fries the meatballs and sausage the day before, and conjures a tomato sauce of ingredients measured by cupped palm-full in a huge pot early Sunday morning.
It simmers over a low flame while we worship, and when we arrive home, souls and spirits fed but flesh seeking food, the aroma lifts us right off our feet.
There is always a house full of friends who gather for "Pop Dan's gravy" and for the fellowship,
and in this way, Sunday worship continues, for where two or three are gathered in His name, He is in their midst.