What do you do on the beach? I’m here now on vacation with my family, and my brain doesn’t get how to chill. I’ll sit out in the sun for a bit, but shortly thereafter my mind nags me to walk, write or devour books to keep it busy. You see, its automatic is fastness. Going. Doing. It time-travels even when I’m in the most peaceful places, places where worries should not go. In the midst of paradise, my brain tells me we’re not doing enough. It asks where life will take us next, and who with. Does this ever happen to you?
I began a new job six weeks ago, so I’m still meeting people and trying desperately to match names to new faces. One morning last week, a head appeared over my cubicle wall. It was an older man with smile lines and light gray hair. I had met him just briefly on my first day, but I remembered his name. Score.
“Can I talk to you about something?” he asked, smiling nervously. “Do you have some time to meet this morning?” Despite my smile, my face must have revealed my curiosity about his urgency, and the fact that we weren’t on any projects together.
“It won’t take long. I’d just like to show you something,” he said. I told him I’d stop by his desk at noon since I already had morning meetings scheduled. He grinned and walked away.
My fellow bridesmaids, the groomsmen, and the wedding guests had all been bopping around for hours straight to JT’s “Can’t Stop the Feeling”, V.I.C.’s “Wobble” and the like when the DJ finally toned it down with a slow song. A handsome, funny groomsman asked if I would like to dance and I, of course, said yes because he is handsome and funny, and I like to dance. Soon after we started and it became clear to me that he actually knows how to dance—like literal waltzing maneuvers. Despite how difficult it was to walk much less dance in my 4-inch wedges and floor-length dress, this amused me. I (unknowingly) began trying to anticipate the next steps. “Oh, opps. Was that your toe?” I asked, more than once. To my dismay, I was not an impromptu Waltz master. Eventually I stopped asking if it was his toe and he said kindly with a confident smile, “Let me lead.” This surprised me. Had I been trying to take over!? I said something super-humble like, “Fine, but actually lead me. And whatever you do, don’t drop me.” I accepted that I am not a suave dancer and did my best to let him guide me. I wanted to dance; I just didn’t know the steps. Rather than continuing to awkwardly fumble along attempting to help us waltz, I let his comment remind me that he is the one who asked me to dance. And I had accepted.
Sometimes I write things and they get buried in my Documents folder. But this piece has no expiration date.
Flash back to the Passion conference, February 2015
My refreshingly laid-back bible study leaders, nine other college students I had only just met, and I piled into a van headed for Houston. Three and a half hours and one jumbo bag of Smart Pop later, I found myself surrounded by an excited sea of 13,000 Christians between the ages of 18 and 25 from all around the world. Strobe lights flashed. Young adults looked excited but unsure of what to expect. Chris Tomlin, Kristian Stanfill and more artists began filling the Toyota Center with their music. It was insane, in a good way.
College is often tragically a time of life when students’ faith gets pushed to the side in lieu of sloppy parties, the chase for success, and sexy, impulsive moments they later regret, so it was amazing to see 13,000 young adults dedicate an entire weekend to growing in their relationship with God and one another.
On the second day of the conference, the colorful lights and talented musicians were back at it again. The energy and excitement was soaring, but I had a lot on my mind. Continue Reading