Let's Dance!

Here's a fun editing marvel that spans a lot of recognizable movies.

Dear God

I would like to respectfully register a complaint about the lack of adequate communication between us. Although I heartily accept all the responsibility for every misunderstanding, I have to lay the problem of fixing it at your feet because I can’t do it myself. That’s right; I’m happy to openly admit it: I need your help. And, we’re talking about ALWAYS, here, not just once to pacify me for the moment.

This journey we are on takes us through a breathtaking world of harrowing, mysterious, and truly incredible moments. Kudos to you for the planning and imagination that you took to create it. It is certainly quite the ride! I know you have done all of the hard part and I shouldn’t expect any more from you, but, let’s face it…I do. I love that your Son has shown us the way and I treasure the experiences of hearing your Spirit’s breathy whisper in my ear as I try to maneuver through the unknown, but – and I don’t mean to sound unappreciative here – could you please be a little less subtle with the directions?

If I remember correctly, we have had this discussion before. Perhaps you thought I meant just the once…or twice…or three times that I asked, but surely by now you know that I am a slow learner (and stubborn to boot, although, I really am trying to work on that). Besides that, we now have to add slightly deaf in one ear, unsure, self-absorbed, and forgetful to the list of issues that make me short-sighted.

These decisions and choices that I keep stumbling over probably seem simple and clear to you, but I really struggle sometimes in knowing what to do. I don’t mean the black and white, good and evil type of choices, but the gray area decisions about what to do with my life. The ones that are not necessarily right or wrong, but will somehow affect the next choice. As is evident throughout my pilgrimage, a small turn can have a significant impact down the road. So, from here on out, could you please add me to the list of handicapped followers who need obvious signs. Not the little nudges and whispers that are enough for holier people than me, but huge, flashing arrows and bright neon signs that say, “Michelle, go THIS way! Love, God.” Yell it in a voice that I will recognize as yours and, when I stand frozen with indecision, please give me a hard shove in the right direction to make sure I get moving.

Anyway, “Ask and you shall receive, knock and it shall be opened,” so here I am, respectfully asking for some clarification. Please don’t leave me in the middle of any more intersections, dizzy from spinning around as I try to discern which is the best path for me. (You know I will mess it up on my own!) I promise to continue trying to keep myself open to your will, watching for your footsteps, listening for your voice, calling your name, if you will but speak louder, write more boldly in the sky, and grab me by the scruff of the neck and drop kick me into place when I miss the gentler cues. Life is precious and I don’t want to waste any more of it wandering in the wrong direction.

Love,
Your struggling child (M.)

Pink Glove Dance in the Starlight Parade

Blessed are the Care Givers and Givees

Here's a woman who really knows how to deliver an entertaining invocation! Don't stop it until you hear her whole delivery. Very sweet and very funny.

We're All Here

And so the halls of education are once again open and echoing with the familiar sounds of scuffling footsteps, clanking locker doors, slamming books, and not-so-quiet voices. Isn’t it great how well humankind is represented in each classroom?

The studious get right to work, unable to stop themselves, the restless constantly fidget within their seats as trapped energy surges up and down their spines looking for an outlet. The fashion-conscious adjust their hair, or shoes, or latest gadget, and the socialites press their heads together to incessantly whisper about nothing and everything because it’s all too important to wait for break. The prim roll their eyes at me for being too lenient with their counterparts while the slackers in the back corner roll theirs because I am a stick-in-the-mud. The gentle just gaze at all of us with a smile of silent sympathy.

The permanently bored, the never serious, the sarcastic, the sullen, and the irritatingly cheerful; they are all there, present and accounted for. The sweet, the snide, the shy, and the devious peer up through lowered lashes to make sure I am not watching them while the beady stares of the self-assured, the insatiably curious, the tattle-tales, and the desperate attention-seekers hope that I am.

As I waded through my first day of substitute teaching, instead of focusing on differences, I couldn’t help but think how these predictable groups of learners represented other congregations, as well. Age, in fact, really doesn’t seem to matter much for, although I was with adolescents today, I have met these same personalities in kindergarten, in church, in college, in staff meetings, and in jury rooms. America is all about individualism, but sometimes, collectively, we don’t really seem all that different.

Me Next

Essentially, our attic is getting a liposuction job. Yesterday afternoon I patiently tried to read as the droning vacuum truck sucked the vermiculite out of our attic for three arduous hours. The rest of the day and, indeed, the previous morning, I had dutifully followed around the electrician who was replacing old outlets, answering questions and moving furniture. Thankfully, a call to substitute today broke the monotony and left Don and Mom to withstand the roar in my place. Next week, what’s left of our home’s old wiring will be stripped and replaced with fresh electrical veins, which will leave it in better shape than its owners. I could use a little “lipo and rewiring” myself.