get out of the way

it feels like an eternity since i last wrote anything

my world has inadvertently become about packing boxes and decorating shelves and trips to the doggie doctor

so i haven't had much time to write the hopes of my heart (they are many this time of year) and the observations of time spent people-learning (the sociologist in me)

have you danced recently?

i have

little known fact: every tuesday i strap on practice shoes and learn to dance the tango

tango is all rhythm and invitation

it's a wonderful thing to be a woman on the dance floor

yielding to the volcada or the pasada

trusting your partner and following the movement

as it leads you across crowded floors and between far-more-technical couples

risking stepped-on-toes and dizzy heads for the chance to gancho or boleo

when done correctly,

it is perfect equality and unexplainable beauty

but only if you yield

yield or get out of the way

--------------------------------------

this i know for certain:

there is a big picture that we squint to see

it's far away; we can hardly hear the rhythm of its rumbling

it is coming

while we are trying to understand, trying to save ourselves, to be our own shalom

and too often running from the call to live in meekness

(meek: desiring and submitting to the will of God)

we stand in our own way

in our hearts we harbor fear and insecurity and a quest for comfort that fuels selfishness

our desires first

our wants, our needs, our opinions

we cannot, will not, do not yield

even to His perfect intentions

His perfect movement

His perfect invitation.

But there is a dance

and an invitation to join

to yield to Him, to live outside of ourselves

we are members of one another

called to seek unity and ask for justice

to live a life worthy of the calling we have received

despite the sacrifices it requires:

our discomfort, our worldly insignificance

our open-handedness

and sometimes, we just need to get out of the way so that He can move.

------------------

in other news: it's raining and Clive is sleeping with his head on my calf. this couldn't be more perfect unless i had pancakes in front of me :)