***inspired by a conversation with nsremom***

For years I’ve wanted to take local community classes with Chris (hubz).   I thought it would be a way for us to have something to do TOGETHER; a common interest, a common goal.   He didn’t quite seem to get it when I brought it up, but sweet guy that he is, he agreed to take a class with me.   I knew it was a huge sacrifice on his part and he wasn’t too thrilled about it…but he did it.

So the first class I could talk him into was a conversational Spanish class.  We had two small children and I still worked one evening a week at a pediatric office.   We have a large Mexican community where we live and I thought it would be a terrific idea to actually be able to converse with our Mexican patients so I signed us up and off we went. 

The class was a little boring.  The most entertaining part was the 60 year old couple we sat next to who were constantly sharing their spicy intimate life with us.  Way more info than I wanted, but enough comic relief that we actually finished the class. 

So my heart was set on our next class…..ballroom dancing.   I’ve always been a dancer.  I competed and coached in high school and have always loved the graceful moves of the ballroom dancers.   But Chris would have none of that.  He was a football jock and this was just way to girly for him.   I accepted the fact that this just wasn’t meant to be and moved on.

Well, don’t tell me that God doesn’t care about the desires of my heart…no matter how little they are.   

On Sunday night we were invited to a birthday party and the hostess hired a ballroom dance teacher to give us all lessons.  We were to arrive in semi-formal attire and spend the night gracefully gliding over the floor.    Chris was NOT thrilled….but I was! 

We spent two hours learning the steps and practicing our moves and I have to say I haven’t laughed that hard in years.    My toes were sore, my shoes fell off multiple times during the evening and I laughed so hard I cried.  But it couldn’t have been a better night. 

But….It was HARD to let Chris lead.  

Being the experienced dancer and a strong willed woman to boot, I had a hard time letting him guide me around the dance floor.  When you’re ballroom dancing, the woman has to follow the cues of her partner.   You have to have eye contact and notice the little guided signals that he sends your way.   I could tell a dip was coming by his raised eyebrow.   I could tell a spin was coming by his slight lifting of my arm.   I could tell a change in direction was coming by his letting go of one of my hands.    He was the one I had to trust as I danced backwards across the floor.  As the leader, he had an eye on where we were going and guided me there.  All I had to do was let him.  When I interfered or didn’t pay attention, that’s when I got my toes stepped on, ran into another dancer, or made him lose his step. 

Do you see where I’m going with this?

Now please know that I don’t have a perfect marriage.  In fact, anyone who tells you they do is, well….lying.    We’ve had close calls, hopeless moments, big arguments, and times where I thought, “I don’t know if we are going to make it.”  And God has always been faithful to meet us there and do a work in both of us.

But a lot of the time I’ve stirred up the trouble by not following Chris’ lead.   Sometimes I don’t trust that He knows where he’s going.  Sometimes I don’t think he knows the right steps.  And sometimes I disagree with the dance he thinks we should do.   But you know what?  That just doesn’t even matter.   My God is bigger than what I might perceive as my husbands bad choices.  

Cuz, you know what?   It’s not about who’s got the right moves and who doesn’t.  It’s about knowing that we each have a part in the dance.   He needs to gently guide me in the direction he’s chosen and I need to step in harmony with him. 

The dance is so much better when I just follow his lead.