::: play that funky music :::

It was my kind of night, this one. It was the kind of night where you wish sleep were optional, and you wish daylight would just be an extension of nighttime and not a wake-up call from the world of responsibilities. It was the kind of night you have when you've been snowed in, but you had time to prepare, or when there's a big thunderstorm and the lights go out, but your husband can somehow still magically play the electric guitar. I guess you could say it was a voluntary snow-in, without the snow.

It was just the four of us, Bo and Sweetheart and The Baby and me. I'd taken Monet to spend the night at a friend's and had told Sweetheart how to make cheesy potatoes, asking her to give it a shot while I was gone. Daddy would be home to help, I told her, but it was pretty simple, and I assured her she could do it on her own.

When I returned, the house smelled like cheesy potatoes, and the girls were busy giggling and running and jumping excitedly. Sweetheart had made the cheesy potatoes with barely any help; she'd done everything but chop the onions, which Pop had done for her.

Bo showed Sweetheart and The Baby a video he'd been given recently of the first public performance of a worship song he wrote, and then a video of songwriter/pianist Ken Medema creating an improvised song into which he wove Bo's worship chorus. The girls were awed. So was I.

We sat together at the dinner table, Sweetheart's potatoes, my homemade dill pickles, hot ham and cheese paninis that The Baby and I made together, and joined hands. Together we sang Bo's chorus, the girls proudly declaring each word:

"Breathe out, breathe in and be filled.
Breathe out, breathe in and be filled.
Breathe out, breathe in and be filled with the Spirit of God."

And the singing just kept on all through the night. Earlier in the week, I had shown The Baby this video of The Cactus Cuties performing the National Anthem, and she was riveted. She sings constantly already, but this spurred her on even more.

So at the dinner table, she treated us to her own rendition of Amazing Grace. Five times. And then again after dinner as Bo played along on Monet's electric guitar and The Baby stood on the arm of the loveseat, arms spread wide, head thrown back, eyes closed and eyebrows raised, belting it out. SANGin' it, I tell you.

And still the singing didn't stop. Bo started playing riffs from Men at Work, and then it progressed to other 80's songs, and I just couldn't help it. I had to pull out the iPod Touch and look up lyrics, singing along to "You're the Biggest Part of Me" and "The Breakup Song" and "I Won't Hold You Back Now." Bo even talked me into singing "Brass in Pocket" by The Pretenders because he's pretty convinced that I sound like Chrissie Hynde when I sing. Why couldn't he think I sound like Karin Bergquist? She has an Ohio song, too, you know.

We even got into some of the one-hit-wonders, like Sheriff's "When I'm with You" and The Call's "I Still Believe" and Eric Carmen's "Change of Heart." And we couldn't let the night go by without singing "She Blinded Me with Science."

And then, after midnight rolled around, it was time for bed for the girls. Bo and I surfed over to Hulu and watched Jim and Pam's wedding, which had to be one of The Best Office episodes ever. I've watched that YouTube video of the incredibly fun wedding processional over and over, and I've cried every time I've watched the bride dance down the aisle. Kudos to The Office writers for working this into the show.

And now Bo is snoring, and I'm sitting here filled up and joyful. And tired.

Hey. Go dance and sing a little bit. It's good for you.

::: dance, boy :::

It didn't seem all that long ago that I was stuffing the squirming toddler Houdin, a Hot Wheels car tightly gripped in his fist, into a miniature black suit so that he could saunter down the aisle at my sister-in-law's wedding and wiggle his little-boy dances at the reception. That's been about fourteen years ago, and now that little boy, who had to have his diaper changed right before the ceremony, has grown into some guy I barely recognize, a guy who bangs out Ben Folds and The Beatles on the piano, sings songs I sang when I was his age, and dances whenever the mood strikes, and today, he is wearing a glossy size 13 dress shoe and snazzy black tuxedo. In a few minutes, Bo and I will climb into the car and journey with our soon-t0-be eighteen-year-old spiffed-up, showered, shaved and shined son to his girlfriend's house, almost two hours away, and he'll go to his first prom.

We've had a rough time of it, Houdin and I. He's so much like I was at that age, and probably still am today--stubborn, opinionated, indignant and mouthy. But I can't even begin to tell you how much love fills to overflowing in this heart of mine when I see what a young man he has become. In the end, it doesn't really matter if he keeps his room clean, or if he passes algebra, or if he wears white dress shirts and khaki pants. What matters is that we have a relationship, that he knows I love him so deeply that I would give my very life for him.

I'm not proud of all of the mistakes I've made in raising a son. I wish I would have been less critical, less impatient, less demanding. I wish I would have known more, read more, prayed more, loved more. I'm so grateful for a God who can heal brokenness, can turn our mourning into dancing.

But, Houdin, I'm proud of who you are. I'm proud of who you're going to be. I'm proud of who you've been.

Now, get out there and dance.

Before the Ball

Houdin and Bard were off to a contra-dance ball tonight. Because I was a ding-dong and left my digital camera out in the rain, I only had Bo's phone to take photos. The friends they're going with have a camera and promised to take some shots, so I hope to have better ones available later.

I'd like to add that all of the items they're wearing, except their socks and undies and Bard's sweater-shawl, were thrift store finds. I wish you could see Bard's coat for real. I bought it a couple of years ago at the thrift store for me to wear when we go out to a fancy place and I get to play dress-up. The collar is real fur and the coat is a delicious grass-green that contrasted wonderfully with Bard's lovely maroon dress.

Now it's time to go retrieve them. I hope they had a lovely time!

I leave with you the letter that was sent to serve as guidelines for the ball:

~ Dress Code: :

Men: This dance requires semiformal to formal attire. If you are indecisive, err on the formal side. Dress sla'cks, shirt-and tie are appropriate. Bow ties, suspenders, and vests are also acceptable accessories. Dress shoes with a rubber sole function very well on a wood floor.

Ladies: Erring on the formal side also applies here. However, for the ladies there are a few different considerations. Dresses ought to be mid-calf or longer [with a full skirt]. A well fitting bodice (not too tight and not too loose) will be comfortable for all the dances. It is important to remember when choosing your dress that you must be able to move your arms freely in front of you, to the side, up and down, without hindrance. It should be modest in all positions of the arms and torso. Much of the movement in the dances will cause your dress to twirl and fill out. Please keep this in mind when considering appropriate underskirt attire. Many ladies like to wear gloves. Modesty is strongly encouraged.

Responsibilities

Men: Men have the greatest responsibilities in this type of social gathering. They must see that all the ladies have the opportunity to dance. Choosing only one lady with whom to dance during the night is selfish and inappropriate. If you see ladies standing on the side waiting to be asked to dance, then choose one with whom to dance. Do not monopolize any single lady. That means, in general, do not dance with a single lady more than twice. Of course exceptions are permitted: married, engaged, or courting couples, or siblings, are free to break this guideline. Many of the dances are "mixers" so the lady with whom you begin the dance is not the lady with whom you finish. You get to dance with all of the ladies in the circle or set. If you ask a lady to dance and she declines, you cannot ask why. If she declines and does not say it is OK to ask later, then don't ask again. When dancing, please be gentle with the ladies. As mentioned before, men must be gentlemen and responsible men.

Ladies: Ladies also have certain responsibilities. They must not ask a man to dance unless he is a family member; [Conduct as well as dress should be modest.] If a lady wishes not to accept a dance, she may decline politely. If she wants to sit out a dance, but doesn't mind if he asks later, she should tell him.

A note to young gentlemen on ball etiquette :
From: Mr. Fritz Hinrichs :

My dear young gentlemen, ~

This ball might be the first for many of you, so you are in need of a little instruction on the rudiments of ball etiquette. A ball promises great delight and enjoyment; however, you must know how to conduct yourself properly to enjoy its pleasures.

First, this is a ball, not a dance. At a dance, many boys simply act without any direction or discretion. This simply will not do at our ball. At all times you must act with complete hospitality towards and respect for the young ladies. At no time are your actions to be controlled by male egotism, passion or cowardice. In order to make sure that you conduct yourself with all proper courtesy and decorum, please follow these guidelines. When you wish to dance with a young lady, approach her and say, "May I have this dance with you?" If she accepts, I offer her your arm, look for an available space on the dance floor and escort her to it. Once the dance is complete, thank her for dancing with you, offer her your arm again and lead her back to where she was originally seated. If you do not act in a polite manner when you ask her to dance (for example, of you approached and said "Hey, let's dance") you will simply be told, "No." If you are polite to her and yet she does not desire to dance, she will smile and say, "No, thank you." or "No, thank you for asking."

A ball is not a place where one comes to find some romantic dream. Therefore,do not wait the entire evening trying to get up the courage to ask a girl for whom you have taken a particular fancy. This is an error that shows both a lamentable fixation on your own passions as well as simple cowardice. One comes to a ball to dance. It is your responsibility to make sure that the young ladies who would like to dance have an opportunity to do so. If you see someone who has not yet had an opportunity to dance, make sure she is given that opportunity. If you find you are turned down, simply smile, walk away and ask someone else.

Your gracious attitude towards the ladies should not stop once you leave the dance floor. Whether it be around the punch bowl, going through doors, or simply chatting between dances, you will be expected to show them all proper deference. Phrases like "'Excuse me", "'Please, you first", "'Thank you", "'You are kind to say so." should be ready on your Ups.

You can expect the finest behavior from your female peers; however, they may be a bit nervous themselves· and resort to that irksome habit of huddling in little female bevies around the peripheries of the dance floor. If this were a perfect world you would not need to face such obstacles, however, manly courage is not daunted but strengthened by such trials. Remember - it is not the woman's place to ask you to dance. It is your responsibility to overcome your boyish timidity,take the part of a man and show a hospitable initiation towards the young ladies.

Politely requesting a girl to dance will say volumes about your character. Also remember, just because a girl looks down at the ground when you approach to ask her to dance, this does not necessarily mean that she does not wish to dance. Often young women are quite shy and find it very difficult to look at a young man directly. If a young woman has come to a ball, it is a fair assumption that she would like to dance.

I do not mean to give you these guidelines to restrict the natural delight that one can take in such events, yet, as with the rest of life, it is within structure that we find the blessings freedom provides.

Mr. Hinrichs
a.k.a. Mr. Manners