This weekend I sat among a group of 200 or so people honoring a couple celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. When the beloved couple took to the dance floor and danced, it moved me tremendously.
50 years of marriage is a mighty long time in today’s world. O how long for the day when Erin and I take our places for that same golden dance. Yet, in all of my romanticizing, I recalled a slight problem. The husband can’t dance. I’m not even kidding. Not even the classic Two-Step.
It’s utterly painful.
Just ask my foot.
Nevertheless, while I was swooning over the lovers on the dance floor, Erin informed me that a Fred Astaire Dancing Studio is a hop, skip, and jump from our home. Oh, how I love my husband! Who knew? His two left feet may find some freedom! And, his little wifey here may just stumble on some fun.
I'm praying the same is true for my attempt at blogging.
Writing reminds me of dancing. I may have two left feet, but it's wonderful to my soul. All to say, if I stumble, give me grace.
I so appreciate you stopping by! Before you go, I'd love to know your name, where you are from, and whether you can/like to dance. You can't leave without saying say hello!
Till we meet again, hugs and love.
