Take my life chris tomlin slides
I manage to get out of middle school (which I will agree with anyone is simply the worst 3 years of life).
I’m this former middle school band vice president with a 4.0 GPA and a PRIDE award in Mathematics to prove it. And that’s when my perspective on dancing changed.įor so many years, I was incredibly self-conscious and too afraid to do anything that might make me the object of even more teasing. As we danced, she smiled from ear to ear, feeling the freedom of being out of her wheelchair. During one of the songs, I picked Isa up and danced with her in my arms. My camper that particular weekend was Isabella, an eight-year-old with epilepsy and very weak legs. This amazing atmosphere engulfs that dining hall as music blares out of the speakers and little kids burst with energy and enthusiasm on the dance floor. On Saturday night of the weekend-long event, there is a dance for all the campers. I volunteered at Camp Boggy Creek, a camp for children with chronic illnesses. Granted, at the time, it was anything but funny.įlash forward to my sophomore year of college. That night, I danced twice - once when this kid from AP Macroeconomics asked me (I think out of pity actually - he and I duked it out in class ALL the time as he was liberal and I the token out-spoken conservative), and once during the last song when a bunch of my girl friends from Fellowship of Christian Students “circle-danced” together to some slow song. (Tragic!) Four years later, at my senior prom, I paced the Harborview Center in this gorgeous black dress as I watched all my classmates dance. During my eighth grade dance I stood awkwardly in the corner of the cafeteria - my hair piled on the sides of my head in ribbons and a set of braces to match. (Gag me.) The only good thing about that experience was I won a boom box during a raffle. In seventh grade, I sold magazines for a school fundraiser and “won” a ticket to a school dance. Through middle school, I managed to spurn and scorn all dances. You never change, but You rearrange my heart more everydayįor the first nineteen years of my life, I didn’t dance. You make me laugh, You make me dance, You make me singĮverything inside, everything outside, I give it all away
You are my strength, You are my God, you are my King You are the one and only one who dared to give it all away for me You are the one who can give light to my feet ‘Cause You are the one who can make my life complete Search my heart, search my mind, search my soulĪll of my plans, all of my dreams, I lay them down before Your feetĪll of my time, all that was mine, I now submit to Your design
And then I am reminded that my life is not about me - it’s about Christ Jesus. I want to know how things tie together and why I went through such and such. In my pride, I desperately long to see how the details of my life fit together. Regardless, I am blown away with the ever-changing nature of life and often find myself trying to grab at a mirage of constancy. And other days I simply want to sleep all day and moan about why it isn’t different. Some days I am liberated by the thought of the current state of my life. Even though the main skeleton of my life panned out, those little details are what make life so interesting. Even though I predicted the prolonged education and relationship status correctly, I could have never predicted all the little details - the mission work, the ministry, the trials, the beloved betta fish, the amazing friends. Sure, there were times during college when I definitely debated whether the first two would actually end up the way I had imagined. Today, I’m headed to graduate school, single, and more in love with my Savior than ever before. I am in precisely the exact position that I predicted to be in 4 years ago. As I listened to the gentle rumbling of the motor and counted down until I needed to pop the next quarter in, I realized something. I was in the laundry room tonight, leaning against the door of the machine trying to benefit from its warmth.