I'm sitting here, hearing fireworks from one or the other, if not several, of the surrounding communities (we're too rural for neighborhoods), towns and counties. No joke--I am certain that we can hear at least one of the neighboring counties, when they celebrate with gunpowder.
I'm rather surprised to hear them tonight, though. It has rained all day and most places have rescheduled for Saturday.
I'm also not as keen to hear them as some people.
I don't mind if I am watching them, but when I am not the dread of when the next loud noise is going to come can cause my anxiety to rise a bit.
Nothing like my Dad, though. War can be pretty bad on a person's nerves.
Be considerate of your neighbors, check and see if any are veterans, hint around and see if they are going to be bothered when you go shooting off bottle rockets next door.
After all, if it wasn't for these veterans that suffered unbelievably, and still suffer today, more than we can imagine, we wouldn't be celebrating Independence at all.
Oddly enough, the only Independence Day I really remember as a child (really the only one I can distinguish from any others) doesn't involve a celebration of any sort.
We lived in a neighborhood were the neighbors weren't very trustworthy. We had gone to see fireworks one Independence Day to come home and find our dogs had run away from home. They turned up safe (another, very sweet story for another time) but the next day we could see that fireworks had been thrown in our yard, no doubt with the intent to frighten the dogs.
As a result, we stayed home on occasions like that.
I remember wanting to see fireworks that year; I don't know if it was the very next year or if it had been long enough that I had forgotten why we needed to stay home. But, I wanted to go. I was very disappointed.
Again, memory isn't good enough to know if I pitched a fit or not, though I don't think I did very often over things like that, but I remember crying a little in bed that night and complaining a little bit to God because I didn't get to go. There, too, I could hear fireworks from around the county and was bitter that I couldn't see them.
Then the fireflies started.
It was amazing.
They were outside my window, dancing and trailing their sparklers, and I knew suddenly and without a doubt, that I was having my own personal fireworks show right then. That God had put them right there, right then, for me.
I remember my heart catching in my throat, and having a few tears, and of the delight. I watched them, in perfect peace and joy until I fell asleep.
It is rare that I think of either fireflies or Independence Day without thinking of God's gift to a disgruntled child.
I wish I could accept His gifts as easily, as wholeheartedly now.