Monday, June 29, 2015

Summer Love.

Dear Reader-
            I sincerely believe that no season will ever completely lose its charm for me. Just about that time in August when I’m certain that I’ll die of heat stroke, it starts to feel like sweater weather, and when I’m convinced that the sub-zero wind chill is going to give me hypothermia the next time I walk out the door, God brings the gracious thaw.
            Naturally, I complain right along with the rest of our farming community: when it doesn’t rain, it’s much too dry, but when it finally does, it came at the wrong time and everyone’s crops are ruined. Ah, I love the Midwest.
            I’m learning, though, to find beauty in every season- not just spring, summer, fall and winter, either. But let’s begin with the beginning.
            For as long as I can remember, summer has always meant freedom to me. All of us kids were released to ride bikes or horses, go to the pool, have friends over IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WEEK (gasp) and just generally be kids. It was wonderful.
            By the time we hit middle school, though, things started to change a little. Most of the boys my age were helping their families with harvest, so we didn’t see much of them anymore (which of course was fine because who wants those boy cooties anyway?) The highlight of my summer became the week I spent at church camp each year. I could write a whole novel on how much I loved church camp, but I’ll spare you the details. Whatever your version of classic summer camp is in your imagination, it was that, and I soaked in every moment of it.
            Our high school years brought even more changes for my friends and me. Our version of summer fun became more about being social than entertaining ourselves, and our community provided plenty of opportunities for that. Everything from a weekly city band performance to a friend’s baseball game was made into a social engagement. Typically, after events like this, we would go to Sonic for half-price shakes (after 8 pm, an excellent deal for students with limited funds), or to the local snow-cone shop.
            The title of this post, though, is two-fold. I love summer, yes. But another thing that adds to the charm for me is that nearly every wedding I’ve been to has been held in June, July, or August. This past weekend, I attended the marriage of one of the “Big Girls” from my childhood. Be honest- you can relate. When you were six years old, you looked up at that middle school girl and desperately aspired to be like her. My friend was married to a wonderful man in our home church, and the reception was held at a stunning location just outside our town.
            Perched on the low stone wall that curved around the outdoor dance floor, watching the young couples as the evening light faded to gold, the reality of it hit me. It goes fast. People will tell you that time flies, and we’ll continue to dismiss the concept with a wave of the hand. But when you look back in the realization that your childhood is gone… It’s a bit sobering.
            But when you’re at a wedding, joy follows closely on the heels of solemnity. Before I knew it, my friends and I were up and line dancing to “Copperhead Road” till our feet were sore and our sides hurt from laughter. Growing up means a lot of changes, but you never know what God has in store around each corner. And whether it’s line dancing with my best friends or one day (prayerfully) a slow song with my beloved, I’ll keep dancing.
            Rain or shine, come wind or tears or heartbreak, that’s where I’ll be- lost somewhere deep in this incredibly intricate, beautifully choreographed dance that my Savior has written out for me. I can’t see it all now, and maybe I never will. But I’m trusting that the One who chose the steps and wrote the music sees the whole picture.

“I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance…
Dance.... I hope you dance.”
-I Hope You Dance, Lee Ann Womack

Until next time,

                        Brooklyn

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