R-E-S-P-E-C-T

The past two nights I've gotten to dance. That makes for two wonderful evenings. On Friday night, Dad and I went downtown to BB Kings and boogied for a couple of hours. And last night, I had the priviledge of dancing on the top floor of the AT&T batman building in downtown Nashville to my favorite dance band of all time, Craig Duncan. And all the dancing fools were from First Baptist Nashville. Now, I have had the joy of dancing with my parents and their Sunday school friends for years. It always ends up being me and my best bud from growing up, Jennifer, and all the adults. There is one man named John who laughs louder than you would ever think possible and dances like a crazy chicken. I will hire him to dance at my wedding reception someday just to kick things off. Anyway, I just love dancing. Something happens to me and all the insecurities about my body that have plagued me for years just fall away and joy wells up and overflows. That may sound extreme, but it's true. I rarely love life as much as I do when I'm dancing. Someone asked me the other day when I discovered that I loved to dance. As far as I can tell it was when I was a toddler. It is recorded in my baby book that when I was still in diapers, my Mom went in the laundry room and I was standing next to the dryer moving my little tush back and forth to the rhythm of the machine. I guess that's when it started.