First, I would like to say that it’s hot. The backs of my knees are sweaty. I’m chugging water like there’s no tomorrow. I refuse to sit in the sun after nine A.M.
When I say it's hot, what I mean is the thermometer has crept several degrees higher than our usually mild, 70-something-degree weather. We’ve *gasp* reached the low 90’s.
All the folks in Florida, Louisana, and Texas are groaning right now.
Sorry guys. Maybe what I’m really trying to say is…California has made a weather wimp out of me.
Second, I have been restless and strangely agitated this week. I’m not sure why. I don’t think it’s the heat, because this feels similar to my first few months of college.
Those months were the first time in my young life that I was away from home. I was relatively independent, and waiting for my adult life to start. Like, isn’t this whole adult thing supposed to be radical, and exhilarating? Why did adulthood feel…anticlimactic? SURELY I hadn’t actually entered adulthood yet? And so I waited for life to start, and felt restless while I waited.
So maybe, now that I’m feeling so much healthier, I’m ready for the next, healthy phase of my life to start. Perhaps, deep down, I’m assuming that SURELY something exhilarating will happen very soon. And I’m getting restless waiting.
What I do know is that my agitation had my shoulders in knots yesterday. So, as my friend Tiffany and I headed to Orange County’s finest line dancing establishment, I asked God for an extra fun, agitation-dissipating, knot-relaxing night.
Isn’t it lovely that God cares about the fun we have on a Thursday night?
Tiffany’s school was hosting a national coaches conference, and a lot of the coaches decided to don their wranglers, boots, and cowboy hats and join us on the dance floor.
They wore tennis shoes and workout pants, and stood out like the towering, muscular, former college and pro athletes players they are.
But they did join us on the dance floor.
But they did join us on the dance floor.
It was great.
Very few of them knew how to two-step, but they knew how to have a good time. And following a lead who’s making up all sorts of two-steps is nearly as fun as dancing with someone who knows what they're doing.
So I spent the night spinning, hopping, kicking, and learning the “tootsie roll” from my especially rhythmic friends.
And then God allowed me a dream come true.
The place we go line dancing is pretty slick, as you would expect in Orange County.
It’s bright and clean, and has a big dance floor surrounded by tables. There’s a stage on one side of the dance floor, and a couple of elevated bars on the other sides.
At one point I was up in the bar/restaurant area talking (well, shouting is more like it) over the music with some of the coaches.
And then a Michael Jackson hit came on, and J, a former NFL football player who’s got to be at least 6’5 and 250 pounds of pure tenderness and kindness, grabbed my hand and started dancing with me in the restaurant aisle.
Waiters squeezed past us; fellow eaters and drinkers tried not to bump into us; and then, about a minute into the song, I noticed half the restaurant was up out of their seats, their food cooling on the tables as they danced in the aisles with us.
And guys, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
I’ve always had a secret wish for my life to turn into a musical.
When I taught third grade, I’d sometimes notice how tired my students seemed as they sat and practiced multiplication, so I’d say,
“Hey guys! What if we write a song about math and come up with accompanying choreography, and then pretend like we’re in a musical? I’ll give you a cue phrase like, ‘please take out your notebooks,’ and as soon as I say it, you’ll jump out of your seats and begin dancing and singing!”
They loved it. Almost as much as I did.
It was the closest I’ve ever gotten to having the people in my normal life burst into spontaneous song and dance.
Until last night, when God answered my prayer for a extra fun, agitation-dissipating, knot-relaxing night.
Isn’t God fun?!
© by scj