If you ever pass me in my minivan and see me breaking down a beat don't be surprised. I get my groove on quite often while dropping off, picking up, or running errands. It is one of the rare times in my day that I feel somewhat alone and can focus. My best worship is usually in my car. I feel free to raise my hands, cry, clap, and I can turn up the volume and drown myself out whenever I want to. Recently, our family went through the Frozen phase. We listened to the soundtrack until Ryan and I could do parts and he was singing it in the shower. I am not proud of this nor was I proud of the day that the kind gentleman laughed and beeped at me as I performed "Fixer Upper" while stopped at a stoplight. The best part is that I really wasn't embarrassed. I rolled down my window and cranked up the volume so his morning could start out as encouraging as mine was. I mean really"everyone is a bit of a fixer-upper".
I was thinking of this today when I took Garrett to wash his hands. He had been playing outside and he wanted some ice cream but I asked him to wash up first. My sister, Emily, came in to assist and was surprised at the process. The water needed to be hot but then it was too hot so we switched to cold. The soap needed squirted on both hands. He wanted a paper towel not a hand towel to dry but when he couldn't find one fast enough he opted for toilet paper. Of course that was slightly disastrous and then even the throwing away of the toilet paper was extravagant.
A similar thing happened with our uncle Dan the other day. He offered Garrett a cookie. Now, at the time that this exchange took place G was in a pickle anyway but the cookie worked to distract him from his stress and he accepted it. It was a Panera cookie which was big enough to have its own address, so Dan broke it in half. As soon as he did that I was hoping that he had another one. The broken cookie was obviously not acceptable to G, who by now was on the brink of a meltdown. Now this was not a normal five year old fit. Garrett sees things different. He was offered a cookie, not half a cookie, and he was already feeling over stimulated and struggling to adapt, so he could not take even this minor change. Thankfully, uncle Dan gave him a new one but he was in awe of the particulars of my little man. I explained it to him like this, Garrett's life is like a very intricate dance. I never know the exact next step but I have become pretty good at anticipating it. There are certain people, certain circumstances that I prep him for in advance. There are other instances where the surprise tactic is better. It may be a wrong fork or turning a new age (his favorite number is four so he refuses to be five). It may be a broken cookie or chocolate frosted donut with shamrock sprinkles (we are mourning the passing the St. Patrick's Day). I dance the dance and, though I often stumble, I keep going and enjoy it as much as I can.
I really believe that we all dance through life. We all have our special things or certain steps that we like a certain way. I find that for me a morning bath and quiet time always starts my day better than any other option and worship is best in the car. Ryan likes a big bowl of cereal before bed and communicates best with his guitar in hand. Parker likes to hear a special lullaby before bed while I hold his hand. Carter wants his back, shudders, and right arm scratched often. We all dance, we just don't see it as such unless it is more extreme. I think it is how God made us to be. It keeps us from being boring and adds wonderful spice to our relationships. He knows the hairs on our heads and He knows every step of our dance. How awesome is that?!
I, personally, love dancing. I am not great at it in the literal sense but, in the case of my boys, I am a professional. I can anticipate and react better than any other and even, sometimes, enjoy the uniqueness of each move. It has taken time and patience and prayer but I feel like I can usually find the beat of even Garrett. Yes, his dance is definitely more intricate but I am blessed to be one of his partners. Maybe God gave me an especially complex dancer because He knew of my love to groove.
The moral of the story is really this, if you see me in my car breaking down to a beat, don't be surprised or embarrassed. Heck, roll your windows down, crank your volume up and join me. Let's all just enjoy the dance that God gave us, even the more complex ones.
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