10 Years Ago…

One of the things we learned in the most recent training was that people want to support our ministry, but they also [potentially] really want to support us – so getting to know us is a big first step.  We WANT you to know us.  So, for tonight’s blog, a little reminiscing on this exact night, February 21st, 2004…

My parents had been excitedly telling me about this really fun thing they saw for nine months now.  They had seen Contra Dancing, an old English style dance that is the classy version of square dancing – they share similar steps, but it is done in long lines and is a true social dance.  They insisted it also looked like a lot of fun.  My mom had discovered a monthly dance in Tacoma (Washington) that I should try.  When you’re 19 you jump at the chance to try anything your parents suggest, right?  Hence the ninth month stall.

Finally, I decided I’d run out of delay tactics and excuses and I had also successfully convinced my bestie to tag along.  We had both grown up Israeli folk dancing at church, so it was no big deal to go to a dance, but to go not knowing with whom we’d dance?  It made it decidedly less exciting to anticipate.

We walked into Well’s Hall, a true dance hall that was rectangular, with a large stage at one end with a lively band playing and a second story, wrap-around balcony up above.  It was lovely.  The celtic dancing music – fiddles, piano, and any other assortment of instruments – overwhelmed the senses.  Thankfully, we ladies were relaxed knowing they were going to teach us the basic steps in the thirty minutes before the dance officially begun.

The dance steps were easy and we were confident we would survive and maybe even have a good time.  The crowd was a bit eccentric, but clearly there for the fun of dancing.  And everyone was so helpful to us newbies.  The process was that for each new dance you found a new partner – this was the “social” part of social dancing.  Then you also passed down the line and met everyone else there.  It was a grand time.

Of course, like all good love stories begin, there was a boy…across the room…handsome, blond, clearly confident in his dancing abilities.

And he looked about 15.  So forget that.

But he asked me to dance, helped me through a few of the more complicated steps, acted older than 15, and he really was cute…so I may as well keep coming to the dance month after month.  And I did.

Fast forward ten years and what you have is a beautiful love story, orchestrated by our Maker.  And that cute blond boy no longer looks 15.  Fun fact: he also thought I looked about 15 and, thus, wrote me off…but was glad I kept coming month after month.

And, of course, so was I.