I walked into my first Zumba class last night. I wish there were some way to convey on paper just how much my entire body aches today after having subjected it to “dance” moves it’s never, ever had to do before. But as I reflect on the hour-long torture…I mean, exercise class, it got me thinking about how Zumba relates to my season of transition right now and lessons I can take away from it, (besides that I need to probably change my heritage). I walked into the class by myself : It seemed everyone else came with a friend, and I was all alone. With the kids in school and the husband starting his classes, I feel alone a lot. And, I don’t like it. I want friends to do life with. Even coworkers who have to work with me would be better than no one. And yet, I was in a room full of people. People whom I can choose to do more than just stand by. People I can dance with! I felt so self-conscious : In many way...
Long-suffering. I’ve been thinking about this word for the past few weeks. It all started when a ghost from our time in Egypt past reentered our lives in the form of an email. Without going into much detail, I’ll just say that this was sent from a person whom we suffered long with. And as I was reminded of the situation, I acknowledged the fact that it is easier for me to suffer long with difficult circumstances than it is to suffer with difficult people. I say this because about the same time we received that email, I was sent pictures of my old house in Egypt. Four years I “suffered” with a kitchen that was adequate, but by no means ideal. During our time there, we had to replace the refrigerator and the stove, but not before months of making due with a leak in the fridge and an oven that blew out smoke. Countless visitors came and commented on both, and yet, the changes came slowly. As we were getting ready to move, word came ...
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