Somethin' about a March

There's just something about a good march that gives me an extra boost of confidence. It could be because of my band director kid status, but even in my adulthood, I have found that life is just better when you walk in step with people and flex to keep your balance.

I will actually miss 3 beats of a bootcamp exercise to ensure that I am in step with the people around me. It drives me nuts if our leg kicks aren't simultaneous. I'll get back to the march here in a second.

I once revealed to someone that I had a short stint of liking rap music back in college to which the person responded, "I can't believe that. You're just so refined."

Definition of refined: Elegant and cultured in appearance, manner, or taste.

I wanted to laugh really hard, which for those of you who know me, would burst from my lungs as the farthest thing from elegant and cultured.

It's somewhat of a relief that my end statement is quite tasteful, but the process getting there is usually the polar opposite.

Had a job interview today for example.

I tried on my pretty business-y blouse, only to find something was very wrong. I realized that the attached spaghetti-strap camisole underneath was all kinds of inside out and twisted. I took it off, put it on, took it off, put it on, but could not get the silly thing right. I finally chunked the shirt across the room and settled for an older choice.

None of the rollers would stay in my hair. I would walk a few steps and several would fall on my foot. When it was time to leave, two of them decided to suck my hair into the center and hang on for dear life. I tugged until my brains hurt, but the only thing I was managing to do was create a bird's nest on the top of my head. "I don't have time for this!" I cried as I attacked those curlers like a competitor attacks a hot dog in an eating contest.

I finally freed my locks from their captor, put my hair in a low ponytail as to avoid the 80s rocker look and headed to the van I am driving. Talk about feeling sexy.

I put on a tweed business jacket, but halfway there realized that the itchy material in combination with my recent mosquito bites would not help me at all. Unless they are looking for someone to fill the ape position at the Memphis Zoo. So off flew the jacket to the passenger seat.

I caught every red light. When I went to turn in, I noticed construction workers had blocked off the main entrance. The people next to me saw me furiously talking to myself and raising my hands to the heavens.

I even verbally cried, "Lord, please just help me to be normal for the next hour...if you want to."

I hobbled out of the van in my heels, heels that only come out for these special occasions. But then I heard it. And my stature began to change.

A march. A John Philip Sousa march blaring from the company sound system outside. With each piccolo trill and snare drum rattle I began to think, "You can do this!"

I wish I could say from there it was a total breeze. I walked in and suddenly felt several hairs sticking to my lipgloss--trapped like a beetle in a spiderweb. I tried to discreetly pick them out without sending a smear of lipstick across my cheek. I began to sweat and immediately cherished my decision to kill the jacket idea.

They came and got me, I took a deep breath (prayed I was lip hair free), reviewed the march in my head and followed them.

And I think it went quite well. We'll see.

You see, being refined is a process. I am clumsy, I am about as elegant as a Sumo wrestler on a balance beam and I don't even know how to properly put on eye make-up.

But lucky for me, life isn't all about outward refining-- it's more about the process that turns our coal-like hearts into a diamond spirit.

And let's just say I need to get on that bird's nest.

If you need an extra boost of confidence to finish your day, have a listen:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ww2nFam-ycQ

1 Peter 1:7

So that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.