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Whoever is slow to anger has great understanding, but he who has a hasty temper exalts folly (Proverbs 14:29, ESV).
I’m writing this Interruption early morning, July 5th. There’s a resident in our neighborhood who arms himself with all the fireworks that China produces in a year (hopefully, tariffs will make this impossible next year).
He starts igniting said fireworks at 9:30 pm, and I think that I just heard the last explosion at 3:30 am. Think of bunker buster bombs and Armageddon combined, as the background for sleeping at my house the night of July 4th.
Boom, boom, boom, boom, and boom for six hours.
And I have jet lag from a recent 28-day trip to the Philippines. Is it a sin to call down fire from heaven, perhaps igniting all his fireworks at one time, sending his entire household and gathered friends into an everlasting purgatory of wafting gunpowder smoke?
Forgive my intensity, it’s 4:10 am. Boom! — I just heard another explosion!
What should I do? What would you do? Call the police? Pray? Kick my wife’s cat? Instead, I get out of bed, feed my wife’s cat, stagger to my computer, and begin writing this blog post. I may as well make lemonade from lemons, which, when you think about it, is the dumbest policy for trials that I’ve ever heard.
I don’t want lemonade, I want a few more hours of jet-lagged sleep.
And to make matters worse, my neighbor is a nice guy. Recently, a pair of Hoka® Clifton walking shoes that I ordered were delivered to his house. He dutifully had one of his sons reroute the shoes to my front porch.
Thanks, neighbor.
Also, he waves every time he drives by; his sons wave every time they drive by; his wife waves every time she drives by; and even his dog wags its tail from the back seat as it drives by. They just drive by all the time and wave — nothing more — no solicitations for Girl Scout® cookies, no stopping by to gab aimlessly. And he’s a believer, so I don’t feel the need to break his solitude with my incessant desire to witness to all pagans.
Okay, no police or rude calls to his mobile number. For 363 days and twelve hours of the year, I like my neighbor. Will there be other fireworks this morning? Can I last just a little longer? It’s now 4:28 am, and the sun comes up in an hour and a half. Then back to neighborly normality until next year.
Aren’t I doing great, refraining from an intense Miggy Moment? (Read about Miggy Moments in Interruption #1453.) My wife slept peacefully last night. She thinks a shaking house by fireworks’ explosions adds character to our neighborhood, and to be honest, she’s the only person that I know who. . .
Does make lemonade from lemons!
BOOM! Arrrgggghhh!!!