Youth dances, in our church, are highly anticipated events. From the age of 14 to 18, boys and girls get an opportunity to mingle, socialize, and dance with each other in a safe and happy environment. It was something that I looked forward to every month or so, growing up, and last night, I got to experience it all over again, only with a different perspective...as a chaperone. An adult chaperone. (I'm an adult. When did that happen?)
I asked The Husband to be my date, and he anxiously agreed. He, too, remembered fondly getting dressed up in his silk shirt, ready to attend his youth dances. We didn't feel awkward or silly when we were youth. We don't remember behaving in any other way than with supreme coolness. Yet, watching all the kids at the dance last night, we couldn't help but chuckle and think "Oh, maybe I wasn't as suave as I thought I was."
Nevertheless, all the kids seemed to have a great time. As we danced and mingled right along with all the kids, we overheard things being said, like "So, is this your first dance?" along with replies like "Oh no. I've been to soooo many...like three or four."
We watched young boys gather the courage to walk across the room and say "Would you like to dance" to an eager-faced young woman. We watched little groups of teens dancing in tight circles on the dance floor. We watched people posing for pictures as they danced YMCA. We watched new love take roots, with a stroke of a hand or a nervous smile.
With all that vividly happening before us, and with all our happy memories of past experiences, The Husband and I looked at each other and mutually agreed that we liked the place we were at now. We have lifelong and eternal love. We don't have to worry if the other person likes us. We will always have a date, and never have to worry about standing alone along the sidelines. Even when he steps on my toes while dancing, I'm still so glad I have this man in my life.