Hey, my Darling Siestas! I just have to share some news before I head out of the country. It has to do with an accidental prophecy that came out of my mouth about six years ago. Some of you may know that I started obsessing about a future “Baby Curtis” way back when Amanda and Curt were engaged. It all started when I asked his sweet mom to send me some baby pictures so that I could prepare a slide show of them both for their wedding. I opened that envelope full of snapshots and nearly died. He was the cutest baby boy I’d ever seen. I promptly stuck the picture in Amanda’s face and announced, “I want me one of THOSE. Right there. Have me a grandbaby that looks like that.” At that time, Amanda was convinced that she could only handle baby girls so I was scoffed and, in fact, told not to speak a thing like that over her again. Of course, in our family that means nothing. We tease each other to no end. When the night for the rehearsal dinner finally came, after the groomsmen and bridesmaids had lifted their Cherry Cokes and given their toasts, Keith stood to give his: “Be fruitful and multiply.” That’s my man.
A while passed after the wedding and I was sprawled out on the couch day dreaming while my beloved son-in-law was sitting on a chair at my house watching television. “You know what I can’t wait to do, Curtis?”
“I can’t wait to praise dance with my grandson.”
He looked a little stunned as if I’d just said something random. “I’ve been thinking about it,” I said. “I think I’d like to have weekly ‘Praise Dancing with Granny’ sessions where we can turn the worship music on and dance all over the house. I want him to know how much fun God is. When the little guy gets a little older, he and I will make us some banners. He’ll have a miniature one and I’ll have a regular one and then we’ll run through the house waving them to some really great praise songs. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
I was messin’ with him just a tad but he knew it sounded just like something I was capable of doing. Then, like I’d received a sudden jolt of revelation, I blurted out, “And he can even bring his friends!”
Finally, the silence broke. “Ma’am, he won’t have any friends.”
A few years later I was sitting on the kitchen counter eating Fritos after work while Keith conjured up some masterpiece for us to eat. (It’s his fault I’m a terrible cook.) The door bell rang and I finished my sentence, hopped off the counter and went to see who it was. No one was there. Only a package. A tall, skinny package. I glanced up and down the street and didn’t see anybody. (Keith was already onto a prank and was making a far more thorough search which ultimately proved fruitful.) I tore into the odd package curiously and, after tugging and pulling, lo and behold I pulled out a long banner. Don’t think it was a dead give-away because I get all manner of creative praise aids since I’m in such interdenominational ministry. The shoo-in came when I pulled out the second one. A miniature. And burst into tears and screams. The card inside said, “You better get ready for Praise Dancing With Granny!” Oh, my word. To this day I could cry and squeal about it. And if I’d truly known how in love with the little dude I’d fall, I would have fainted flat on the floor from an overdose of joy.
I’m taking the time to write when I should be packing because you need to know that the praise dancing prophecy is under fulfillment. As God would have it, Jackson Curtis Jones would rather dance his legs off than anything on earth. Even if he hears music from a TV commercial, he’ll stop what he’s doing, get a certain mesmerized look on his face and get down with his darlin’ self. And if a commercial will bring it on, you ought to see the man-child do what he was born to do! That boy can get his praise groove on to the Glory! Last week when he and his mommy were here, we turned on the music every single day and all of us danced to beat the band. He has more moves than a locomotive! Needless to say, he takes up a lot of dance floor by making some wide running circles, but the best part is when he stands in place and lets it happen. He does a lot of side-to-side lunges kind of like an 80′s aerobic move then shifts his vibe to the front, alternating his arms up and down like he’s almost in a trance. It looks like a slow-mo throw back to the “Jerk” my oldest sister and brother used to do in the den when they were playing their Beatles 45′s. Only, me and my grandboy were spending our time doing something a whole lot better than that. We’ve got us some praise going. My favorite part is when he does the Stomp. Kirk Franklin would be so proud. The boy picks up his right foot and stomps it on the dance floor over and over with his feet so wide apart, I think he’s going to do the Chinese splits. I’m not telling you the little dude does it every once in a while. I’m telling you the little dude is a dancing machine. I’m telling you he can point to the CD player, tell me to turn it on, then break it down.
Sigh. This, Girlfriends, is what makes getting older worth it. You live long enough to see some prophecies fulfilled. Even a few you didn’t know were prophecies until they came to pass right before your very eyes. Yep, God sure is good. You want to hear just how good? Almost every night before his parents put him to bed, Curt grabs his guitar and plays while Jackson and his mommy give God some praise with the dance. One of these days my darling Curt may just put down that guitar and shake a leg. And I’ll invite some of his friends.
Have a great week and a half, Siestas! I’ll have so much to tell you when I get home. Thank you for your prayers! Our Angola trips involve some of the most difficult ministries we ever have the privilege to do. The suffering is unimaginable but God has called us to open our eyes and our hearts to it and do what we can to help. There will also undoubtedly be moments so tender, we’ll remember them forever. I will get to see darling Matthew, the tiny child that God raised from the death bed after we were there last. A miracle if I’ve ever seen one in my life.
I will keep you on my heart and freeze some frames in my mind and describe them to you when I get home. I love you so dearly and I’m so honored to be your servant. Your siesta!