After I received this hand-me-down watch from son #3 about a year ago, I started dancing—in private.
It is less than half of what I used to make in my younger, healthier days, but hey, it’s a feat nonetheless.
My dancing time is between 3 and 4 PM when Tony rides his stationary bike. He’s a music freak so I dance to the tunes he plays. My dance steps? Maskipaps (Filipino slang for anything goes). I wouldn’t dare dance this anywhere else.
But, whoa!
One Saturday every month, our church has this gathering of seniors (grandparents all), which I attended recently. An important part of the program is, one guess, dance! “For better mobility and blood circulation, let’s dance so we can continue serving the Lord in our sunset years.”
We are told to stand up, one meter apart. Then the video plays—a clown shakes his hips and hands, then gestures for us to follow him. Like fish to water, I dance! We dance!
To the right. To the left. Turn around. Bend down. Look up. Shake. Step. Rattle. Step. Roll.
Pant, pant, pant.
Well done! My watch (PINK arrow) hits 6,000! Not bad for a once-a-month spike.
Then we are reminded of the Word by our pastor. Simultaneously, I feel like David in Psalm 30:11-12 (NLT):
“You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy, that I might sing praises to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever!”
Around several tables later, we snack on healthy food and look forward to next month’s Saturday of grace—and dance again. 
No comments:
Post a Comment