Swept

Writing does something very unique for my soul. As I'm doing it, I have that feeling..."this is what I was made to do." I've never experienced that feeling before and it's becoming like a drug. Because of that, I like to write down everything in my heart and mind because it brings it back to life. And it gives the world an opportunity to experience wonderful things. So I do not write to embarrass or to take away privacy, just so everyone knows. ;-)

Because I'm such a girly-girl and because I love the movies, I think being swept off of your feet is one of the best experiences in life. To be swept off your feet, you have to be surprised and caught-off guard. You have to realize someone spent a lot of time thinking about it and pursuing you. At least, that's my opinion.

I grew up line dancing. "Unfortunate", some of you are thinking. But my mom and I would spend hours and weekends learning new dances and shuffling and scooting across those dance floors. I thoroughly enjoyed this part of my childhood. Whenever I meet someone new, they learn that I am a dancer. A jazz/lyrical dancer and a country dancer and a 'shake-it when you're feelin'-good' dancer. It's usually accepted but not always celebrated.

Here I am, wandering this earth, looking for a man who will play golf, drive me around on a motorcycle, take me to church, watch lots of movies, let me cook, and country-dance. No joke, this was basically my list. And it looked impossible.

Then, there was a boy. He is a pastor, he plays golf-almost as well as I do-, he rides motorcycles, and he likes movies and food. And, he's so handsome he could part the Red Sea. He's charming and sweet and funny. He's a writer and a listener. He's considerate and he likes me. My friend can tell by the way he looks at me...

We're walking into a big, over-dosed country bar and I'm cringing because it probably feels like torture to the boys behind me. I'm trying to ease them into it when, out of nowhere, he grabs my hand and asks if I "know the pretzel?"

Excuse me, know the pretzel? I half-way, sorta invented the pretzel...well, not really.

He pulls me to the dance floor, spins me around to face him, and leads me into a swing.

Ladies and gentlemen, he dances.

He swore to me that he didn't. He swore to me that he wouldn't/couldn't/ shouldn't. And yet, he did.

I don't know where you learned those steps or where you got your moves. I don't know how actually happy you were to be doing them. But I do know that now we're talking about future dances. And I couldn't be happier about that.

If God would have asked me to build a man and a friend and a partner, I would have built you.