If I squint I can see the waves from here. With the binoculars I can see the ocean spray.
When I get back from taking the kids to school, I come in and shut their bedroom doors. The way the light falls on their unmade beds is like art, I want to take a picture, I want to paint it. It gives an excuse to leave it. I find myself restless here, being this close to the ocean it feels like we should be down there every waking moment. Why are we in this house right now with the ocean right there? We'll drive by or right up to it and I'll say "Jeff! Look at that wave! Look! Do you see that?" and he's all "I see, I see it." Every time.
We tried a new church. I'm glad I've held my tongue until now because, I need to give it time. I'm confused at why none of the kids go to my kids' schools, and why we've yet to ever see any of these people around. I don't want to be in a bubble and I don't think that's how it's supposed to be. I just feel like of all the things church should be easy and safe. It's been a long time since I've felt either.
But if I was the church-starting type, we'd meet down by the sea, front row seat to God.
And I know I know where I'm sitting right now is a front row seat to God, but still.