My kid wanted to go to (our most recently-attended) church this weekend. I said no. Lots of excuses like dirty hair, having to get out of shorts and into something decent, putting on make-up - only to come home and bath it all off again. So we didn't go.
My parents encouraged me to get involved in a seminar that an Aussie/American guy will be bringing to Cape Town. The line was bad and I didn't hear which one. I said I'd think about it, but I suspect I'll give it a miss.
The Kings Heralds quartet (which we grew up listening to) was in town over the weekend and gave a concert at the on-campus church. We didn't go.
We still spend our Sabbaths with a bit of God-time, a bit of nature time and an afernoon nap. As our neighbours come and go to church, dressed to the nines.
I'm still in a time of waiting and unlearning (yup, that promised post still coming...) and relearning. I'm not ready to go back, and I don't know if I ever will be.
Many simply can't understand that. But there's no returning to where I used to be.
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