Mosh Pit

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Okay.

And now that that little advertisement is out of the way...

29.

Is not.

The new 19.

I started working with our church youth group a few weeks ago. It's important that you know that. Superchick came to town last night with Bread of Stone, Me in Motion, and Manafest. If you know anything about me, anything at all, it should be that these bands are not my kind of music. And when I say not...I mean more like NOT!

Ask my ex-boyfriend and dear friend, Jason. He'll tell you. He'll tell you stories about how he tried to get me to like screaming rock and how I told him that I didn't understand why people even bothered to write lyrics if they weren't going to be heard or understood by anyone.

It was loud. I was tired before I even left the house. But I prayed about it and I made up my mind that even if I didn't particularly like the music, I was going to enjoy my time with the youth group.

Dear Bands,
You are all very interesting in your own ways. While I may not always appreciate the music, the Theatre degree holding artist in me was very impressed by your presentations. Also, I enjoyed you, Superchick. I did. I kind of wanted to die my hair platinum blonde and conjure up my inner rock star.

Dear Staff at Calvary Chapel,
I'm sorry. Please forget my face. Thank you for not asking me what my day job is. Thank you for not digging to the bottom of things and finding out that I'm actually a pastor's wife. I'm sorry that I got in trouble for dancing like a complete lunatic in the aisle. I'm sorry that, while trying to make the teenage girls laugh, I inadvertently ended up flailing about in the aisle and that, consequently, I became a fire hazard. I'm sorry you had to witness a grown woman jumping up and down in the mosh pit--the only mosh pit she can actually recall ever having been in. I do ask your forgiveness but please understand that I am paying dearly for trying to make a good first impression on the youth. Please know that when I attempted to "head bang" I did something to my neck. It hurts. Please know that when I repeatedly jumped up and down with my fist in the air I did something to my knee and the simple act of carrying around my own body weight now makes me contemplate replacement surgery. On the one hand, it may have been worth it because one of the teens twittered something about me being "awesomeness". On the other hand I did bodily harm and risked someone recognizing me all for the sake of the youth. A youth I left behind some eleven years ago. But then, both of the girls in Superchick are older than I am and they were dancing around like lunatics, too. Of course, they do receive a hefty paycheck which will likely pay for their knee replacement surgeries. But again, please accept this senior pastor's wife's apologies for joining the mosh pit. There's a fine line between being relatable and being injured. And apparently I have multiple personalities. Lori will be speaking at a women's retreat in five days. She spends her days raising two sons and participating in all sorts of ministries. Tawanda likes mosh pits.