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I’ve been trying to ignore the gnawing feelings that have been creeping up on me.  There’s been plenty to do to keep myself busy: insulating the front room, putting up drywall, sanding, painting, tidying up . . . Still, I can’t seem to shake the jitters.

Today is the day.  It’s my first dance recital and once again, I’m wondering, “What am I doing?!”  It’s not that I am uncomfortable with competition.  It’s that I’m squeamish about prancing around in front of an audience, pretending that I’m graceful.  Oh, and I’ve got to wear a leotard and tights with a flowy red skirt.


This morning I was thinking it wouldn’t be so bad if I twisted my ankle hauling laundry down to the cellar.  At least then I’d have a legitimate excuse for bowing out rather than simple cowardice.


Then there’s a little encouraging voice that keeps rooting for me, reminding me how much I’ve enjoyed dance class and how fun the group rehearsal was earlier in the week.  The little girls giggling while performing their routine is enough to make me smile and the tender first years coming on stage is enough to make me want to cry!


I listened to the music a couple of times this morning and had a mental dress rehearsal.  I suppose if I fall on my face or twirl right off the stage, it’ll be good for a laugh and will make a great story.  I’ll let you know.

Here’s the music we’re jiving to:

Toby Mac featuring Leigh Nash Christmas This Year

Cademon’s Call It Came Upon A Midnight Clear


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True stories of raising children, remodeling, braving the elements and plotting out life, all while living on a humble acreage in central Indiana.

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