Rock Me, Momma

When you become a parent, all bets are off as to what kind of person you will become. If you were cool before, will you remain cool or will you let go and be a total nutcase for the sake of your kids?

I was not cool before, so I had no such pretense to shed in the "after."

And yet, I still surprise myself.

To wit, I was not a "1:00 in the afternoon dance party in the living room" type of girl. In fact, I was not a "dance party" type of girl at any time of day or in any place. HH (he says he prefers to be called this online; as a reminder, it means "Handsome Husband," and we can all be reminded of this fact now that he has shed his barbaric winter facial parka, but I digress...) and I barely danced at our own wedding. And yet, I find myself dancing like a lunatic at one in the afternoon with a chicken-dancing, harmonica-playing little boy and a giggling little girl.

In losing myself, I find even more of me.

And, as is my wont, I began to reflect on how this aspect of my experience as a parent has been shaped by the One who designed parenthood. Joy and delight in our beloved little ones, to be sure. But is there a divine equivalent to dancing in your living room? (A ridiculous dance, I must reiterate.) The elephant's trunk springs to mind. Why else, other than just silly fun, do we have puffer fish and the blue-footed booby mating dance and monkeys and hummingbirds and butterflies and even little boys who hear a great song and spontaneously start dancing?

I want to be this type of parent. When you think of God in this way, don't you want more of him, too?

This, by the way, is the song to which we were rockin' out ("rock-n-ROLL" says T). HH and a group performed this at a church talent show two years ago, but it's shown up in my FB feed several times in the last few days. A warning to all instrument-playing cabin-goers this summer: this song will be a frequent request. Practice up.


(This is HH & co's version of the song; the song starts at 1:30)