Marketta Gregory: Dancing anyway

Marketta Gregory More Content Now

It was a morning when I already had a case built against my husband.

There was a list at least three pages long of things he hadn’t done the way I wanted them – when I wanted them. Important things, like getting rid of that eyesore of an aquarium and taking millions of water bottles to the recycling bin.

So I set off for work with this list running through my head, and about the time I hit Lake Avenue, I saw these three women out exercising. I probably wouldn’t have noticed them except that they were dancing as they walked.

I smiled and thought it was nice that someone was having a good morning. And then I had the little thought: Maybe they’ve just decided to dance anyway.

I pushed the thought aside. I had a lot to figure out before I made it to work, and I was hungry. There was that to think about, too.

Halfway to work, I pulled into a drive-thru and got out my wallet while I waited on the person in the car ahead of me to order.

I found no cash.

No debit card.

No credit card.

And I had no packed lunch for the day.

I turned the car around and drove home, sure to sigh heavily when I opened the door and asked my husband for the card. It was a simple miscommunication, but it meant my early-to-work day changed to a 15-minutes-late-to-work day.

I got back in my car and back on Lake Avenue and I saw the three women again. Their dancing had slowed a bit, but they were still smiling and laughing. Good for them, I thought as I drove a little faster.

I was over a bridge and almost to halfway to work again when I noticed a man who looked like he was walking to work. As I passed him, though, I saw his head bobbing and his shoulders swaying. I caught him in my rearview mirror just to be sure.

Yes. He was dancing.

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe there’s something to all this dancing – all this joy. Nobody’s life hangs in the balance if I turn on my computer 15 minutes later than expected. I can love my husband even if the recycling takes another day, I thought.

So I turned up the radio. And I chose joy.

Marketta Gregory is a former religion reporter who now shares her own journey of faith with readers. She lives in Rochester, New York, with her husband, their three young boys and one very vocal Pomeranian. To contact Gregory, email or write to her at P.O. Box 12923, Rochester, NY 14612. You can also visit the Simply Faithful page on Facebook and follow her on Twitter (@MarkettaGregory).