There’s a tribal dance group in Kampala we always take visitors to experience. They accurately demonstrate how the tribes in Uganda differ by expression of dance, instrument, song and ritual. For the finale of the performance the dancers stack clay pots on their heads, shake the hips and move all over the stage without dropping a pot. They add pots one at a time through the song until the most talented dancer carries up to thirteen pots piled one on top of the other balancing on the top of her head. As they close the show she dances up the stairs and out into the night.
I think that’s a good enough image for what my past few weeks would look like if I could create one image to show how many moving pieces are depending on my balancing ability.
As for the talented dancer she knows she must make it through one song without dropping a pot, however for me, we needed to endure the finish line of school for five students and it was weeks before the music ended.
I’ll drape a wide sloppy swag of images to show a bit of what it’s been like to carry my clay pots:
…arrived home from Uganda to find college boys in my kitchen and all their stuff in the garage…their bums poking out of the fridge calling to the ends of the house, “mom” what’s there to eat?…Kira “graduating” from preK and landing all her spunk and energy into our laps full time…Dad taking off for his first solo business trip to Kirabo Seeds in Uganda…horses don’t care how busy the rest of my life might be, they require care…the unkind process of trailer registration at the DMV…hauling and loading horses in an unfamiliar new trailer requires grit and patience…Donny’s cats join ours for the summer making four hungry flipping tails at meal times…Jack’s home school wrap up for four of his five classes…scheduling his exams at the public library to be independently proctored… wedding plans are real and imminent for Donny and Kelli’s August nuptials.. Jordan and a group of college boys drive to Florida for a week on the beach…a unique opportunity for Jack to ride with a highly esteemed dressage trainer…puppy walks…my dad arrived for two weeks…Kevin is preparing for a summer program in creative writing at Columbia… Craig arrived home safely…Donny begins his summer internship…Jack has packed for two weeks away at Prude Ranch camp where he’ll enjoy freedom from all responsibility….Jordan prepares to transfer to Baylor and move to Waco…Kevin closes out his junior year and looks forward to being a senior in the fall…finally…rest for mom for just a few days to recuperate and take on the summer.
I am guessing I carry more than thirteen pots on my head YET I continue to dance. I won’t quit searching for the music and keeping the fun in the rhythm. That’s the point: I haven’t lost the music in the madness. I am still dancing. I think this way of life is fun. I can shake it and not drop a pot, climb the stairs, move out of sight for a while until the music begins again.
I’m feeling thankful we made it through another year of school at the pace of grinding fast gears that will snap off body parts if we don’t keep moving. This life is either going to be my fountain of youth or send me to an early grave. Either one is fine with me as long as there are horses in heaven…because we know there’s music up there…and considering Jesus comes back on a white horse I’m thinking there are heavenly stables full of equine pleasure there.