It started with the little old hunchbacked lady in her pink sweater and white hair, doing the two step and waving her hands.

Then the slightly less old lady, kicking and clapping in her purple and pink track suit. Together they weaved in and out, and around, spinning and clapping and waving and kicking.

A middle aged woman up the center aisle began to skip, twisting her backside and waving her arms, blond braid bouncing against her back as she skipped down the aisle and around the people. Shortly thereafter a teenager was jumping from side to side, her layered shoulder length hair flailing wildly around her head.

I sat in my usual spot, a chair against the back wall, looking up the aisle at all the hopping and waving and kicking and clapping, smiling because they were all so happy, and I love my church. And that little old lady, so darn cute.

Thinking how unusual it is that the dancing that morning started with someone's great grandmother, and I couldn't find the energy to stand up. Instead I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and tapped my foot, occasionally taking a swig from the bottle of pop beside my chair, wondering how I could save a few bucks getting the brakes done on my car.