A house full of family. Not everyone is here, but many are,
and from afar. There is a lot of laughter, some expectations, a lot of food and
teasing. You have to have a thick skin to survive in this family.
Tennis is on in front of me; the anticipation of watching
Murray, the great Scottish-British hope, storm through is enough to make you
think he’s bound to fail. At the moment though Federer is powering through to
victory. Until the rain stops play.
It’s the Fourth of July. I have a scrapbook of memories in
my memory bank of past Fourths. Homemade ice cream – the rock salt, the taking
turns at cranking it, the ice cream so cold it gave you a brain freeze. Heat,
sunshine, fireworks in the evening. It got dark by 8 in California. Can’t have
fireworks in a place where it doesn’t get dark til 11, unless you have it at
midnight. My memories here are fun, too.
BBQ, usually cooked in the garage, someone racing back to the house through the
rain with the cooked food. Flags flapping in the moist air. Friends coming
round to celebrate.
We’ll do it today again, later. We’d all love it to be hot
and sunny – it has been some years (including last year) – but we’ll enjoy
ourselves whatever the weather.
My heart is full of gratitude to God, for such a family. For
such love and laughter. I don’t take it for granted.
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