Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Big Weekend, Part II: Pat and Irene go to a Barndance

Two months from today is Christmas!!!

Sorry...just had to throw that out there. So, yes. Big weekend for me, part II.

My friend Bee, also known as Beth (since I have all but dispensed with my one-time penchant for anonymity), invited me to a barndance put on by the career group (translation: singles group) at the church we have been attending for the last few months. I all but called her a liar when she told me the event was mentioned in the church bulletin. My response was somewhere between 'Why not? It sounds too good to miss' and 'You will have to drag me, wild-horse friend'. But in the end, I could not resist the story of it all. And by that I mean getting to e-mail Jamey (#1 Sister) with a casual "Not much new here...Beth and I went to a singles barndance on Saturday" or getting to call Pal (one of a few whose name has stuck) and say something slightly less casual, like the "You won't belieeeeeve what I did today" that we have always loved so much. I have yet to do either one, actually. Procrastinator that I am. I also have yet to tell the padded out version of the story to my eager audience of imaginary grandchildren, which is strangely a sizeable motivator in the things that I must force myself to do. In short, I thought a singles barndance would make a good story.

I'm not sure that it accomplished said goal (although it would seem that the story continues in some ways . . .), but I did discover something pretty cool. A leftover something from the night before...the big fundraising event. I am not quite the unlocked-prison-cell-dweller that I used to be. When I say 'unlocked', I mean that I was free to go, but too afraid to leave the 'comfort' of my prison. I was stepping in places that months ago would have paralyzed me, and not feeling an ounce of the debilitating fear that I had always tried to blame on shyness or awkwardness. God's freedom is good news indeed. The prison door was opened long ago, but the captive still cowered. The door of the cage was opened, but the little bird just sang to herself and watched the world go by from her swing. You can call me silly, but I can't help it. There is nothing like God's freedom. I have to say it was a long, hard road, those few steps from the prison-cage to the open door, and I would not have made it if Someone hadn't reached inside and grabbed my hand. I can almost remember each step now...like crossing stones in rushing water. Every now and then, prison's "safety" calls, and I must deliberately choose to keep walking (or flying) away. But on my way, I'll catch a mirror-glimpse or a memory of where I was, and I sing inside: I have been released.

Anyway...about that barndance. To sum it up, Beth learned how to dance. I learned that I cannot dance. (Unless of course you count the danse ridicule that may or may not have been invented by the Frenchman who called us Pat and Irene). I learned that it is foolish to care about what you're wearing when it's so cold you never take your coat off. I learned that you should never bring pie to a potluck if there's a chance you could take it home with you. And yes, I re-learned that each of us carry a hidden story within us, and that things (people) are not always what they seem. Oh...and as far as I can tell, I don't have Future Wife written anywhere on my person. So...I'd say I learned a lot.

2 comments:

lance said...

Penchant - good word.

Posterity is a strangely motivating factor for me too. I often wonder what it would be like if I could read blog posts by my grandparents, and look at photos of them growing up.

It should be interesting, if anything, for future generations.

Beth said...

I wouldn't say that I learned how to dance so much as to shuffle rather embarassedly (if that's a word), Irene. And the cell is a comfort...but a cold one. Unlike microwaved, dog-slobbered pie.