I'm rolling. I just walked in the most hysterical thing I think I've ever seen. I've been in the office all morning and mommy has been getting Baylee ready for her 1 year pictures (a few months late) and so Hunter has kinda been on his own. Somehow he got Barney tuned in on our local PBS station. Barney is doing some questionable dance that the children are supposed to be learning along with him.
Here's where I start the laughing bit. Hunter is shakin' his money-maker. He's got moves that would make Richard Simmons hang up his silky little "stars and stripes shorts" for good. For the life of me, I dont know where he gets that. Dad isn't necessarily John Travolta and Mom is no Gloria Estafan. Not that we're against it, we just dont dance much. We're bright enough to know that while we perceive ourselves to be like Fred and Ginger in our own home, we're more like Shaggy and Velma to interested onlookers.
Lately, I've been in one of those typical "Pastor-Funky" moods. More discouraged than inspired, more disappointed than excited...you get the picture. Anyhow, in the dance of a 4 year old and a purple foam monster God seemed to take hold of the weight and burden within me, and discard it. I mean its gone. (Not gone enough that I got up and joined them---but I will next time.)
At any rate, I just wanted to praise God for that. I've been tucked away reading every book by all the spiritual giants that I can get my hands on, in order to help me to climb out of the funk; and God uses a purple, pagan people-eater of questionable sexuality to do the job. Go Figure. Thanks daddy.
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