We spent those 15 hours talking about pretty much everything, and introducing Jesse to apple goopus. Can you believe that I had never made apple goopus for my husband? For those that don't know, apple goopus is just chunks of apples thrown in a cast iron pan with some water, a bit of cornstarch, and a ton of sugar. It comes out this funky kind of grey color (from the cast iron), and is all glommy and delicious, and you pour it over pancakes. We ate a lot of goopus growing up. It was a staple food, in our house, almost like beans and grass. But I had never made it before!
Anyway, when he left, Jesse said "I didn't realize how much like your dad you are." Old news, dude, but apparently Jesse hadn't seen the similarity to its full extent, and in the week that has followed, I have continued to see my father in me. "That's the way it's meant to be...and I find I'm more and more like him each daaaaayy..." Sorry. What's a good blog post without a musical break? Ahem. Back to the point. See? Rabbit trails. I get those from him. Along with my hairline.
The reason my father was in Texas is that he was going to this big ol' pastor's conference in Dallas. I'm not a pastor, but I have always been a fan of those big conference things. They get me all riled up and emotional and passionate.
As an aside, Jesse told me the other day that I am not allowed to watch Ted Talks before bed, because I get all worked up and want to change the world. I guess bedtime is not the time for changing the world.One of the stories shared at the conference was about a pastor who realized one day that he was supposed to help the poor. So, not knowing what else to do, he ran down to Costco, bought a bunch of hamburgers, went downtown, and started "schlepping burgers" to homeless people. I didn't hear the story directly, so I don't know all the details, but I guess other people started coming to schlepp burgers with him, and eventually the guy ended up leaving his big ol' fancy dancy church, and built a whole new church out of hamburgers. They spend half of their time doing normal church, and the other half of their time they get out and DO STUFF.
My father sat on my couch and told me this story, and I could hear the passion in his voice. I grew up hearing my father rant and rave and extol and exhort and urge us to DO THINGS. I knew it was important, even as a child, because he pushed himself to do the same, and he grew frustrated when he was unable to make a difference. He taught me that to be discontent is not always a bad thing, because it can push us to DO THINGS. But he also once told me "I am not entirely happy with my discontent", and I say that to myself all the time. He taught me to ask "so what?" in everything I do and hear and see and say. That if you're going to do something, you need to know why you're doing it. What is the So What? But I am getting off subject yet again. My father sat on my couch and told me this story, and shared his desire to be DOING THINGS. I sat on the couch across from him, and I could feel the same passion welling up, and wanted to go out and schlepp burgers, anything. I want to DO THINGS.
After church today, I was talking to Jesse about my desire to do things. More things. Different things. I love everything I do. I love both of my jobs, and I am so thankful for all the kids that are in my life every day. I love being at the school, and I love working with the kids. I love listening to seven year olds who can read any word I throw at them. I love sitting on the floor with other seven year olds, walking them through the alphabet, praying that today they will be able to recognize all their letters, and rejoicing when they even know the sounds that they make! I love going to my baby ballet class and seeing all my little girls in their little pink leotards and frilly skirts and big hair bows, and sitting on the floor while they take turns dancing around the circle with my scarf and letting their adorable personalities shine. I love going to rehearsals and working with my older girls, trying to prepare them to go out on stage in 21 days and be able to hold their own doing something they've never done before. I walk along behind them as they do chaine turns so when they throw their arm too far back it will hit me, because I am trying to train them to have good technique and do everything exactly the same.
I love all of that. But I want more. I want to stop being a pew potato, and I want to be involved in our church. I want to take the talents God has given me and use them for Him. I know that being there in the school for those kids is good. I know that giving kids the opportunity to dance is good. I know that I am there for them, and I hope that my being there is given them something that they need in their lives. But I want to use my dancing for worship. I want to be able to share those things with anyone who wants to praise His name with dancing, not just dance to Taylor Swift with the little girls in the pink tutus. I want to take what I do and make it real. I keep asking myself, So What? I teach dance. So What? Why can't there be more to it than just cute little girls? Don't get me wrong, I love my cute little girls. Dance classes serve a purpose, and I don't want to belittle them, because dance has given me so much, but I want more.
However, dancing in church is awkward. It just is. It's a hard thing to incorporate. I've been to churches where people just get up in the middle of the service and start waving ribbons in the air, and it made me a little uncomfortable. It might make me less uncomfortable now, but I have a feeling that if I just got up in the middle of our southern baptist church and started dancing, some of the old folks would be pretty surprised, and probably even a little unnerved.
My other problem is that we're trying to buy a house that is 40 miles from our current church, so we don't know how long we will be going to church here, and I don't want to push to get something kind of outlandish started, just to leave and go to a different church.
So I'm at a loss. If you have any suggestions, that would be cool...and in the meantime I will continue to be discontent, and pray that God will show me why he's made me discontent. He's pushing me to DO SOMETHING, but I don't know what it is.
One thing I am content with is that I didn't fall very far. I have to thank my husband for reminding me of that last weekend. It's another thing to be thankful for.
