So. I danced bachata on Sunday night. Or technically Monday morning. Starting at …. 2am? It was sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo fun. The most fun I’ve had in a while! It helped that I had an attractive teacher. Who was also very fun and patient. And a great leader/dancer! 😀

It was the first time I’ve *actually* danced with a man. I mean there was one time in college that I took a ballroom dancing class…. but I didn’t like my partner very much. He was much too feminine and told me that I was swaying my hips too much. I was, by the way. I was swaying my hips obnoxiously. By accident at first, and then on purpose just to piss him off.

Haha HEY come on now I only did it on purpose for a second. And I was really only half-conscious that I was doing it purposely. I also took a mo to process whether or not I was actually swaying too much. Once I became fully aware that I was I tried to stop, and did. I wanted to do the dance correctly. I wanted to be a good partner. And it was fun! I’m not sure why I didn’t go back to that club…

…..And here we are five years later, and I can finally say I’ve danced bachata! And it was fun. Did I mention that it was fun?! haha I feel like a child! My heart is so full of joy! ^_^

And what’s REALLY cool is that last week I was prayer journalling and told God that I wanted to dance! Haha! And He gave me an opportunity to dance for real! I love when prayers are answered quickly 😛

Interruption: I just got some sad news in the middle of writing this. I won’t go into it, but I will just mention that we must remember the goodness in our lives. We MUST count our blessings. We MUST trust that God is good, no matter the circumstance. We MUST learn to be content in whatever situation. We must count suffering as pure joy, knowing that God is using it to grow us into the image of Christ.

And while there is still sorrow in my life, and disappointments, God shows me how much He cares about me and loves me in so many different ways every day. Especially when I’m down or feeling ill. He fills me up with joy and calls me back to His presence.

And that’s what this bachata dancing did. It was fluid, it was effortless, it was full of joy. He has always been faithful.

So I look for opportunities to dance with Him. A father-daughter dance.

Father, I loved dancing. I loved expressing myself. I loved following the lead of someone who knew how to dance. That’s what it’s like following Jesus. You call my name and say “follow me” and I follow, I listen. Lord call to me, speak to me, and pacify my heart during this hard time.

This is a draft from September 4, 2018. I am not as infatuated with bachata as I was when I wrote this, but I still do love it. I just like salsa more. 😀 Enjoy~!


is good for the soul. I dreamt about it last night. I am still on cloud9 from dancing bachata and salsa the other night. Bachata can get a little sensual, which I could presume, but have to be careful of next time I go.

Salsa is a whole new world to me. I mean, bachata is too, but it is very easy to pick up. The beat to salsa is on an 8-count, not a 4, like most popular music. The beats that you emphasize with your feet are different depending on whether you’re dancing on salsa1 or salsa2.

I want to take some classes and learn the techniques! Here’s my problem:

I want to learn fast. But I don’t want to screw up my ankle. If I dance too hard too fast, I will definitely hoyt myself. I’m notorious for this, unfortunately. This is how I screwed up my elbow, I think. Overuse. A few summers ago I was a kayak instructor and was kayaking for like 6 hours a day. I hardly kayaked before that summer btw. So I went from doing little to no kayaking to kayaking for 6 hours a day 6 days a week. For 6 weeks straight…. You know what? I really don’t like all these 6’s! Seeing an evil trend here! Get behind me Satan!


Towards the end of that summer I experienced some elbow pain that I’d never experienced before. There are a few other factors that could’ve played into the pain though. Like the fact that I started using a pulaski to cut thru large roots in the ground that we were trying to pull to make way for laying down steps. It was hefty trail work, and I probs shouldn’t have attempted it. It’s strange, when you’re young and fearless and seemingly unstoppable. And then you try something that never leaves you the same way.

Between the kayaking and pulaskiing. And probably the veganism. I was vegan for several months at that point and had already been dealing with bruising all over my legs from nutrient deficiency I assume. Not my proudest summer. But actually, that summer was freakin’ great and made me feel on top of the world. I soo loved being a counselor/trip leader. Tons of funs. And everyone loved me too! Which tends to help things. Except the 14 year old who wanted to have a “boyfriend” and hold hands and God knows what else. My co-leader and I shut that down (or tried to) much to her dismay and embarassment, and seeming hatred towards me after that.


Back to dance. I’m not going to screw it up this time. I definitely want to work on some ankle-strengthening exercises…

And I won’t go dancing every night or anything. Though I am attempted because (1) it’s SO much fun and (2) it’s freakin’ contagious! (3) I want to master it.

I truly want to get good at salsa dancing. It’s thrilling. Dancing with men is thrilling. It seems like men who know how to dance will make good husbands. Okay, maybe that is an overstatement… But following a male leader in dance is very sexy and attractive. The man is supposed to lead. The lady is supposed to follow.

Plus, dancing releases mad endorphins since it’s like a workout. Except WAY more fun than a workout. Like, why force myself to do endless cardio when I can go dance………….

Dancing is such a healthy expression of life… I usually reserve dancing for when I’m home alone and can dance throughout the house when nobody is watching me. That is also when I sing loudly. Though lately I have been doing much more of both dancing and singing. Getting used to doing them in front of others is a journey in itself. But just doing the things is a journey for me. Soooo healthy.







I’m looking forward to the next time I get to dance! Thanks God! For creating dance, music, rhythm… for giving me the opportunity to partake in these things!


God is good, all the time! <3



I dance while I swim

Wow. Here I am, inside Aroma’s coffee shoppe. I just went swimming at the Community Center on Jefferson Avenue. As I was swimming the sky opened up and the sun shone through the many windows on the West wall filling the entire pool room with light. And I thought about the scripture “put on the armor of light” which comes from the book of Romans. I felt as though I was wearing an armor of light in that moment and a wide grin spread across my face just like the light spread across the bottom of the pool below me as I swam down the lane, just before touching the wall.

And I started mentally putting on the armor of Christ. First, the belt of truth. Then the breastplate of righteousness. Followed by the shoes of peace. Then the helmet of salvation. And then I picked up the sword of the spirit, which is the Word of God. And I lifted up the shield of faith. And nothing could touch me. And I knew it. I know it. Nothing can touch me as long as the armor of God is on me. And I don’t have to consciously put on the armor every day, as in going through the prayer in my mind. I have the armor on already because I am in Christ. I have been in Christ for almost three years. I confessed that Jesus was my Lord and Savior when I was about 7 or 8 years old but I didn’t understand what that really meant until almost three years ago. Three years in June. A child of God. A child of light. For God is light. And we are called to be like Him. And we are being conformed to His image a little more each day.

I am the light in the room. I am the light in the pool that floods the space and brightens my face and the faces of others. I cannot be ignored. I am set apart. I am not of the world. I am holy, because Christ makes me holy. I am righteous, because Christ has made me righteous.

And so I swam. And I… danced. I danced. I smiled and danced. Each time I took a breath I wonder if the lifeguard off to my left side saw my smiling face as I gulped for air.

I hope he did.

And I hope he wondered why I was filled with joy. I like to think that I would have been filled with that same joy even if the sun hadn’t come through the windows. I know I could never have this joy if the Son hadn’t come through the window of my life and woken me up almost three years ago. I was swimming in an especially dark place then and wasn’t even aware of how dead I was. How much I needed Him. But when the light came in, when the Son shone in, it brightened everything. I saw everything so much more clearly. My life. My position. My priorities. My aspirations. My dedications. My value. My worth. All of these things rooted in the wrong things. Because if God is not first and foremost; if God is not at the center of my life and my thoughts and all that I do, I am swimming aimlessly. I’m swimming all over the pool and never getting anywhere. I’m swimming slowly and with so much effort and never accomplishing any goals. But when that light shone in, when the light shines in, I have order. I can see clearly now the rain is gone. Just kidding, I can see clearly how much tile is preceding the wall before I have to turn. I can see rays glittering through the water casting curvy, artistic shadows on the pool floor. I am reminded of light, the Father of light. Jesus, the light of the world. I am reminded that I am that same light, because He bought me and made me so. I am His. And He is mine.

And I swim. And I dance.


Dear November

Dear November,

You are so beautiful. I roll around in your precious cargo of orange and yellow leaves, some crisp, some freshly fallen on my face and in the palm of my hand. Your warm autumn air engulfs my body like flaming kindling in the fireplace. I look up through the boughs of oak and maples and see blue sky; and a few branches not ready to give up their dresses. Or maybe dresses not yet willing to depart from their boughs. A single leaf flutters down, flitting in spiralling circles before landing adjacent to my right hand.


Its’ veins resemble my veins.

Its’ color, my color.

I think I Continue reading “Dear November”