Dance party at my house…by myself. Okay not by myself but with my Father. I was dancing on His feet. He was showing me the steps today while I flailed my arms and tripped on my big, skinny feet. The dogs looking at me worried. I closed my eyes listened to the music and danced.
God didn’t make me a ballerina..but I still think He thinks my clumsy feet are beautiful..and adorable….HE loves me. Maybe He made me clumsy on purpose. Gracefully clumsy.
Confidence in my identity in Christ..as a young woman. Not pride but confidence. Wisdom. Resting. Being filled..spilling over…
Romance. I love it. It melts me. All my strength turns into swooning, fluttering. I forget myself. Wanting to fall apart in it.
"Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music."
— Angela Monet
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