Prayer #117: One-Two-Three, One-Two-Three ...
Know why I didn't hit it big in amateur ballroom dancing (and yes, some people do hit it big in amateur ballroom dancing)? I have trouble letting my partners lead. And I have two left feet, but it was mainly the leading.
Here's what ran through my head every time someone led me onto the dance floor:
Oh goody, a partner! He's kinda old, but I bet he's got the moves. Huh, his head comes up to my boobs. Interesting. Oooh, fox trot time. I'm gonna lock this shiznit DOWN. One-two-three, one-two ... that's not it. I don't think this guy can hear the music. That hearing aid is the size of Rhode Island. Maybe I can guide him a little bit to the left, get him on rhythm ... ok, nix that, different tactic. Stop looking at my boobs, old man! Maybe if I refuse to do something, he'll be forced to change his footsteps ... nope, foiled again. Note to self: Do not wear push-up bras to these functions. Maybe we can salvage this foxtrot yet. One-two-three, one-two-three ... oh. Wait. It's a waltz.
My ultimate solution to learning how to cede complete control was to drop out of ballroom dancing and not learn it at all. Which is a shame, because I could really use that skill this June, seeing as Fella has come to DC for the month.
Yes, the long distance has become immediate. This means meals together, face-to-face conversations, and no goodbyes at the airport 48 hours after we say hello. But it also means adjustment, compromise, and no goodbyes at the airport 48 hours after we say hello.
There's no way to escape the dance floor. No sweeping issues under the rug we're trying to cut. If he's stepping on my feet, or I'm pulling him in the wrong direction, we have to deal with it in real time.
It was easy to leave the little old men behind and disappear into a crowd. But a good partner -- the type of partner who becomes the strongest dancer -- stays to practice. And practice. And practice some more.
So I will. Music please!
Prayer #117: One-Two-Three, One-Two-Three ...
Dear God,
It's come to my attention that You've been trying to lead me. I appreciate the effort, but You can let it rest. I much prefer to run my own supremely powerful (albeit little) universe and bend others to my will. So really, put Your feet up and take a break. I got this one.
Love,
Me
---
Dear You,
Ok. How has that been going for you? Making any headway? I'd love some tips.
Love,
God
---
Dear God,
Umm, not so great, actually. Turns out that other people don't respond to mind control. I actually have to talk to them and make my feelings known and listen to what they're thinking. Frankly, I don't know how You do it with so many people. It's hard.
That being said, would you mind taking one more on?
Love,
Me
---
Dear You,
Of course! Thought you'd never ask. Let's go.
Love,
God
-- Amen.
Here's what ran through my head every time someone led me onto the dance floor:
Oh goody, a partner! He's kinda old, but I bet he's got the moves. Huh, his head comes up to my boobs. Interesting. Oooh, fox trot time. I'm gonna lock this shiznit DOWN. One-two-three, one-two ... that's not it. I don't think this guy can hear the music. That hearing aid is the size of Rhode Island. Maybe I can guide him a little bit to the left, get him on rhythm ... ok, nix that, different tactic. Stop looking at my boobs, old man! Maybe if I refuse to do something, he'll be forced to change his footsteps ... nope, foiled again. Note to self: Do not wear push-up bras to these functions. Maybe we can salvage this foxtrot yet. One-two-three, one-two-three ... oh. Wait. It's a waltz.
My ultimate solution to learning how to cede complete control was to drop out of ballroom dancing and not learn it at all. Which is a shame, because I could really use that skill this June, seeing as Fella has come to DC for the month.
Yes, the long distance has become immediate. This means meals together, face-to-face conversations, and no goodbyes at the airport 48 hours after we say hello. But it also means adjustment, compromise, and no goodbyes at the airport 48 hours after we say hello.
There's no way to escape the dance floor. No sweeping issues under the rug we're trying to cut. If he's stepping on my feet, or I'm pulling him in the wrong direction, we have to deal with it in real time.
It was easy to leave the little old men behind and disappear into a crowd. But a good partner -- the type of partner who becomes the strongest dancer -- stays to practice. And practice. And practice some more.
So I will. Music please!
Prayer #117: One-Two-Three, One-Two-Three ...
Dear God,
It's come to my attention that You've been trying to lead me. I appreciate the effort, but You can let it rest. I much prefer to run my own supremely powerful (albeit little) universe and bend others to my will. So really, put Your feet up and take a break. I got this one.
Love,
Me
---
Dear You,
Ok. How has that been going for you? Making any headway? I'd love some tips.
Love,
God
---
Dear God,
Umm, not so great, actually. Turns out that other people don't respond to mind control. I actually have to talk to them and make my feelings known and listen to what they're thinking. Frankly, I don't know how You do it with so many people. It's hard.
That being said, would you mind taking one more on?
Love,
Me
---
Dear You,
Of course! Thought you'd never ask. Let's go.
Love,
God
-- Amen.