July 4th. When you have kids, it becomes the longest day of the summer. Keeping them up well past their bed times, finding extra things to occupy them before the fireworks start.
We had a fun time at Ault Park, listening to a band play some old marches and patriotic tunes, as the kids ran about the grasses playing — a cool breeze on our faces. No rain came to drown us away. But now we pay for keeping the kids up late (random drive by tantrums and outbursts of anger and incoherence).
I have a growing dissatisfaction with where our church is heading (or not heading as it were), and with interacting with others in general. There are promises and anticipation, words of great change coming — than nothing. Week in and week out, nothing new, but perhaps a hint of regression and battle with newness. That every word spoken is swallowed, but never digested — chewed then spit out. I’m tired, but aimless as to where to go, what to do. So daily life mingles between mundane and dull — repetitive and lonely; where I am seeking direction, knowing there is a converging point of things being better – but for now God is saying “wait it out”.