To say that I have been in a funk would be a huge understatement, it would probably also give you the impression that maybe since I have known I haven’t been conquering and moving forward in my sanctification I have felt sad about it.
A twelve-year-old girl stomped out of the room and slammed her bedroom door. Her two parents sat at the table completely befuddled. They had been trying to lead her to grace, to forgiveness, to a remembering that she was loved.
This past weekend I was celebrating my dear friend’s wedding the way I always celebrate: by working it out on the dance floor. I love to dance, though I am fairly certain now that dancing does not love me back.