The Big Dance

In my hometown of Grenada, MS, we didn’t really have proms. There was an organization known as the “Cotillion” that was made up of the young girls in our small community who had reached a certain age, perhaps 15 or 16. There would be a Cotillion dance about twice a year and it fell to the girls to ask the boys to the dance. I suspect that the whole event was really a way to perpetuate the segregation of our community, but it might have also been a way to keep certain “elements” from attending. Whatever the reason, it was always a stressful time for me. I wasn’t much of a catch standing at 6’ 4” and weighing 140 pounds, unless you needed a light bulb changed. Consequently, the invitations to the big dance weren’t exactly filling my mailbox.

One year, though, everything changed. A pretty girl who lived a couple of blocks from me asked me to the dance. Nancy (we’ll call her) was a year younger than me and she had always had my eye but I knew that we were operating out of two different leagues. I never gave the chances of us going out much thought. Nancy had been dating a friend of mine, Al, for a couple of years but had recently broken up. Now, nobody wants to be the rebound guy but when the girl is that dang pretty most principles go flying out the window. I waved goodbye to mine and gleefully accepted the invitation. Besides, her mother thought I was the best kid in Grenada and I had high hopes she might have some influence that would increase my future chances.
Have you ever tried to buy a suit for a kid that looks like a drinking straw? My mom had, many times, and she knew there would be nothing in small town Mississippi so we headed to Memphis. Twelve hours, and six big and tall stores later, we headed south to Grenada with suit in hand. It had been a painful endeavor for both of us but the chance to dance with Nancy was well worth enduring Mom’s grimaces. Did I say dance? That might be an exaggeration that is best not described in any great detail. Feet moved and hands waved. Enough said.
The big night arrived. I pulled into Nancy’s driveway in my 1962 Ford Galaxy with vinyl seats, rubber mats and AM radio. Nancy’s mom greeted me at the door with a big hug and a smile and then from around the corner came a sight to behold. Nancy appeared and she had to be the prettiest I had ever seen her. “Wow!” I thought. I handed her the orchid corsage that perfectly matched her gown which I had called and gotten the color of from her mom a week earlier. Nancy’s mom pinned it on, Kodak flash cubes popped and then we were off to the Cotillion.
The evening started well. A few fast dances, one slow dance, a glass of punch and we sat for a bit. Then “he” came over, Al that is. “Mind if Nancy and I dance?” he said. I didn’t mind. After all, she was my date. She had come with me. What’s the harm? Well, I found out. Two hours and too many glasses of punch later Nancy comes over to me. Al is standing a safe distance away. “Do you mind if Al takes me home?” “No, that’s fine.” I said as I pushed that giant lump in my throat back down to wherever it had come from. I left. Crushed. Betrayed.

If you are waiting for a happy ending, there isn’t one. But there was a lesson learned. My youth minister had an expression: “People will let you down, always.” Then he would say, “But God never will.” He was right. Though we may be crushed or feel betrayed, God always desires our good. He will never leave us or forsake us. He is ahead of us, above us, below us, behind us. God is working, always working God’s grace in our lives. Thanks be to God who dances the day we are born and celebrates our lives with us, even through the hard times.


. . . . for he has said, ‘I will never leave you or forsake you.’ So we can say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can anyone do to me?’ Hebrews 13

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8

Possum

When we lived in Waco, TX, we had a friend and church member that was quite the character. He had been educated at Baylor University and had taught biology for a while and then worked a few years as a restaurant inspector. When we knew him, he was in his late 50’s and had been dubbed “Possum” by another friend. I’m not sure why he was called Possum, he just was. Somewhere along the way Possum had decided that the traditional lifestyle was not for him. He didn’t have any family and never married, although he did have a girl friend for a brief time while we were living in Waco. He gave up his 8 – 5 job and mowed yards for a living. You could see him most any summer day in his little pickup hauling his push mower, rake and broom up and down the streets of Waco. He still lived in the house he had grown up in and inherited from his parents. Possum had an odd way about him that endeared him to everyone and reflected a deep wisdom that only comes from a life well lived. He was fond of saying, “Don’t criticize your enemies until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. Then you’ll be a mile away from them and you’ll have their shoes.”

He frequently pulled into my driveway to chat. He would go to the door and then go back and stand by his pickup, waiting on me to come out. I could never get him to come in the house. We talked about many things: sermons, the weather, mutual friends, politics, the “Missus” and a hundred other topics. One of those other topics was the vacation that Possum was planning. Possum was always planning a vacation, usually to Wyoming to go fly fishing. We would discuss the route, the things he would need, even settle on a date. The day would inevitably come, Possum would pack, loading his pickup with every conceivable item and then go to bed to rest before the early start the next day. Possum would get up bright and early, go out, and unload his pickup, almost every time. Some of the guys at church even promised to pay for the trip if he would just go. One year, he actually left town headed north. He got as far as Fort Worth, about 100 miles, and turned around and came home. As far as I know, Possum has never made it to Wyoming.

The trip was obviously very important to Possum or he would not have planned it so meticulously every year. However, his reasons for not going were even more important, at least to him. We don’t like it but the fact is that many of us are just like Possum. We make big plans, especially this time of year, to make changes in our lives. We make meticulous plans to jolt us out of our ruts only to fall back on excuses for the status quo. Too much work. Not enough time. Next year for sure. Something came up. It’s my children. It’s my parents. The list really can be long, can’t it?

Maybe it’s time to stop making resolutions and work on making covenants. A covenant is a promise, not a wish. It’s a promise to another, or to God, and sometimes both. Maybe it’s time we see our need for change not as a physical or mental issue but as a spiritual issue. Give it to God. Regularly pray about it. Be accountable to another. If you fail at first, don’t consider yourself a failure. God doesn’t! Continue working and praying and working. Allow the Spirit access to empower.

Let me know how it goes.

See you in Wyoming.