Death by Zumba

I’m having second thoughts about this new church that we joined.  I think that they might be trying to kill me.  We joined just a few months ago.  We felt right at home from the first time that we visited.  Like family.

It’s probably because our family is at this church.  I worked in the church nursery when I was in high school.  My mom has worked in their Mother’s Day Out Program for twenty-five years.  Everyone knows Miss B in the baby room.  My kids went through their MDO program.  My sisters kids went through their MDO program.

Joining this church felt like coming home after a long absence, rather than embarking on a new, unknown adventure.  Divorce has provided enough in the area of the unknown. This was a breath of fresh air.

Don’t get me wrong.  I loved the church that we had attended for years.  It was a church that I chose with my husband.  He liked the preacher, and that meant that he wouldn’t fight me (much) about going to church on Sundays.  We chose to raise our kids in that church.

The divorce changed me.  (I’m sorry, but that statement cracks me up because it is the Understatement of the Year.)  In some ways, I have become someone new.  In other ways, I have found the old version of me.  The me before I became the dutiful wife of an alcoholic.  I found my roots.

I can’t take credit for the decision to change churches, though.  My oldest son was the spiritual leader on that trail.  He started attending the Youth meetings with his friend.  Then he started going to church with his friend.  At the time, I was avoiding church on Sundays.  Talk about guilt!

I asked him if he was interested in making it our church home.  Oh my, the nagging began.  I visited the church two Sundays, and YES, FOR PETE’S SAKE, WE WILL JOIN TODAY.  We stood in front of the congregation and the pastor introduced us to our new church family.  “This is Miss B’s daughter and grandsons.”  Immediately, recognition spread through the pews.

Now that we have joined, my sister and her kids attend along with us.  Let me tell you something.  When you feel like your family is broken…when you feel lost and alone…nothing feels better than sitting with your sister and all of your kids at church.

Until your Size 2 sister opens the bulletin and says, “Oh, look, the church is offering free Zumba classes on Tuesdays.  We should do that.”  And then on Tuesday, she drives to your house and drags you to the church for torture.  I mean, Zumba.

Oh wait.  The light bulb just went on.  It’s not the church that is trying to kill me.  It’s my sister.  Yes, that makes more sense.  This is all just payback for the raking.

Zumba Fitness

 

Comments

  1. Oh wow – I think we could be very good friends. Love to read. Hate to die by exercise. Love church with family. So glad you commented on my blog. I’m hooked. Can’t wait to check out your books page. Do you care if I steal that for mine? Have you ever seen Goodreads.com? Fabulous. I’m not only a book lover, I’m a book lover-geek!

    • I am so glad that you came over to my blog! Of course, you can use that idea. I was hooked when I found your blog. I was nodding in agreement to so much. We have loads in common. I could write novels on Things Alcoholics Say. I have several drafts saved.

  2. See you Tuesday.mmwwwaaaahhhaaaa (e evil )

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