We live on the corner of a green – surrounded on all sides by sprawling suburbia. Among the various families living in those houses we have made wonderful friends over the years, and now and again an invitation goes out to anybody that might be able to make it – to find a quiet spot under a tree together, and share a little of each other’s world for an hour or two.
Tonight was just such a night.
A little after dinner we began to appear from our various houses – carrying blankets, camping chairs, bottles of wine, and glasses. A warm evening with friends. The conversation flowed through all manner of subjects – everything from movies, to books, faith, food, life experiences and more.
Every time the question of faith comes up in any sort of group conversation eyes tend to turn to me. Everybody knows I’ve slowly become more comfortable opposing the status quo – speaking my mind of asked. It’s becoming a calling card of sorts – the more belief somebody has, the more entertaining the debate becomes. Don’t get me wrong – it’s never disrespectful or angry – and we always change the subject eventually – agreeing to disagree.
I think perhaps agreeing to disagree solves lots of problems. I see it often – people setting out their stall and preparing to die on the hill they construct – continuing any and all arguments that oppose the view they wish to force on others. I suppose the Celestine Prophecy might have categorised their strategy as a drama of some kind.
Before we knew it the sky had become dark, and I found myself walking across town to meet my middle daughter from work. She was shattered. On the way home we talked about the characters of the evening, and her thoughts about training to manage the bar. There are plans afoot.
While writing this the clock is ticking towards midnight. Saturday is becoming Sunday beneath my feet. I wonder what Sunday will bring?