Some of you have experienced a wedding dance with yours truly. Things have a way of getting out of hand fast, especially if the DJ is brave (and smart) enough to play lots of Michael Jackson music. Well, those days are becoming more and more behind me now (I didn't say they're gone completely) but there is hope the legacy has been passed on.
Enter Natalie. Last Saturday night, at the reception of a wedding I presided at, there was a dance. And while Pastor Keith wasn't exactly feelin' it, his 3 year old daughter Natalie most certainly was. No one asked her to go out on the dance floor. She didn't take anyone with her. She just knew that this was where she needed to be. And so she wasted little time, took zero breaks, and just danced her little heart out. Sure there were times when it was just arms flailing and shoulders swaying, but she stayed out there, all by her lonesome often. When the inevitable creepy old guy tried to take her hand and give her a twirl, Natalie was quick to deny that request with a look that said, "I don't think so." When the crazy little boy her age swarmed her for the Tanzmanian Devil break dance moves, she side-stepped herself out of danger with ease. When the floor flooded with people eager to do the newest choreographed dance (it was Electric Slide in my days), she followed along, did her best to keep up. I knew well enough to let her be, knowing that she wasn't interested in sharing the dance floor with her Mom or Dad - thereby letting Mom take the walk of shame when the attempt was made...and promptly denied.
Yes, she even did a pretty good "Elaine" (Seinfeld fans - you know what I'm talkin' about) a few times. All in all, it was a proud #YouGoGirl moment for her Mom and Dad. But especially for her "I love to entertain the crowd" dancin' Daddy :)
Monday, May 26, 2014
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Last (Days) Laugh
Do you ever have those moments when someone says something and you think of a really great response, but you know you could never say it because its, well... too mean?
One of the things that's been bothering me about the congregation I serve is that I get asked too few questions. I love being asked about what I think or about something from my life, etc, but people, young and old alike, around these parts are pretty tight-lipped. I can count on one hand how many times someone has asked me a personal question. I know I'm a bit more talkative and extroverted than most people around here who hail from Norwegian roots, and I get that, but I just wish people were more brave or insatiably curious to ask more questions or try to really stump me. After all, I like me and love to tell about my story as well as to come up with all sorts of explanations for the unexplained.
So you can about imagine my delight when I was sitting with a couple of old-timers the other day, when a lady (not a member of our congregation) asked me out of no where, "Pastor? Do you believe we're living in the last days?" I almost choked on the barbeque sandwich I was eating and seriously had to stifle my laughter.
Without hesitation I responded in all truthfulness, "No." I then went on to justify my position and put her heart at ease that no one knows the day or the hour when blah blah blah that the world will end. But what I wanted to say, but my brain intercepted and ruled against it before reaching my lips was: "Yes, Rose, I believe you are living in your last days."
I'm pleased to know that no matter how rusty I've gotten over the last few years, that I can still make myself laugh.
May you do something today as though it were your last. Life is too short not to find the funny, so bonus points for sharing with me that last great laugh you've either given or received.
One of the things that's been bothering me about the congregation I serve is that I get asked too few questions. I love being asked about what I think or about something from my life, etc, but people, young and old alike, around these parts are pretty tight-lipped. I can count on one hand how many times someone has asked me a personal question. I know I'm a bit more talkative and extroverted than most people around here who hail from Norwegian roots, and I get that, but I just wish people were more brave or insatiably curious to ask more questions or try to really stump me. After all, I like me and love to tell about my story as well as to come up with all sorts of explanations for the unexplained.
So you can about imagine my delight when I was sitting with a couple of old-timers the other day, when a lady (not a member of our congregation) asked me out of no where, "Pastor? Do you believe we're living in the last days?" I almost choked on the barbeque sandwich I was eating and seriously had to stifle my laughter.
Without hesitation I responded in all truthfulness, "No." I then went on to justify my position and put her heart at ease that no one knows the day or the hour when blah blah blah that the world will end. But what I wanted to say, but my brain intercepted and ruled against it before reaching my lips was: "Yes, Rose, I believe you are living in your last days."
I'm pleased to know that no matter how rusty I've gotten over the last few years, that I can still make myself laugh.
May you do something today as though it were your last. Life is too short not to find the funny, so bonus points for sharing with me that last great laugh you've either given or received.
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