I’m starting another journey today. This one isn’t a Fast. Thank God… I’m fasting, fasting, for awhile I think. Two fasts, 2 months apart, filled my fasting tank. I will now indulge in chocolate and cheese happily… or at least until my pants get tight.
No, today marks the beginning of the Spring Semester for Metro groups. I’m signed up for two weekly classes, the Freedom Growth Track class as a member, and I’m also leading the Breaking Free: Beth Moore study. Did anyone else pick up on my trend? For the next 3 months I’m considering myself on the fast track to Freedom. Freedom from insecurities, fears, a rather obnoxious thought life, you name it, I want Freedom from it. I don’t know what this means. I have no real expectations for the ride, but I am excited and anxious for it in equal parts.
While I don’t have any expectations, I do have my own selfish desires for it. For one, I’d like some freedom in my ability to show emotion in public. Currently I see myself as having an allergy to public displays of emotion, namely my own displays. I’m hopeful, over the course of these 12 weeks, that my ‘reaction’ to either the thought of display, or God forbid the actual display of an emotion, no longer sends me into anaphylactic shock, requiring eppie pins to bring me out of it. It’s not pretty people.
Don’t presume to know what I mean by ‘public’ either. I think there is a ‘range’ of criers… there’s me… a ‘rock’, no tears, no display of emotion, some may wonder if I even feel. Yes, I am not bionic, I do feel, I just don’t want you to know it! Then there are those, in a stadium of thousands, that are heaving, snot flying, sobbing over a message that has ‘reached’ them.
But more importantly, and God, need you to be paying attention here, I would like to meet you.
We’ve got 12 weeks of ‘Dance Classes’ God…. I’m not throwing out an ultimatum, that I quit if I’m not the best dancer out there when this is said and done, but can you at least show me the steps? Can you COME to the classes and teach me how to dance, how to follow, so that it looks like its supposed to… that people can tell we’re actually dancing, rather than hurting each other constantly on the dance floor? Can you make me feel like I belong here, on this dance floor with you, not like a poser on the brink of discovery? Can you make me believe that you like dancing with me, even when I step on your toes, that you aren’t horribly frustrated with me and waiting to point out my every mis-step, that you don’t want to dump me for a better dance partner, one that can pick up the steps faster, and keeps up? Would you make me joyful and proud (in the good way) to dance around the room with you, in front of all the judges, televised and all?
Can you do this for me God? Please? Thank you.