May 12, 2018

the dance

When I was a kid I danced around the house. A lot. It was my favorite way to irritate my parents. I remember watching Stephanie Tanner dance on Full House and it was all I could do to sit still while she danced.

I feel like dance has always been a part of me, although because I’ve had hip problems since birth, and because we grew up poor-ish, dance class was never an option growing up.

In college I took dance for my PE. I’m not a natural dance prodigy, but even as an adult I have been known to dance around my house.

And then my life stopped.

My dance partner took his last breath and all the dance went out of me.

It’s been two years of still feet. 

So much has changed in my life in the last two and a half years. So much instability in our lives. So much moving from place to place. I deep fog shrouded the first year after my husband’s death, and the second year was a smack in the face of adjusting to our new reality.

And now, we’re living our new normal.

Part of that is learning who I am all over again. I went from living in my dad’s house to living with my husband, with only a very short time in between. I’ve never really been on my own before. So I’m learning who I am all on my own.

This girl I’m finding is pretty neat.

Totally above average in some ways.

But, back to the dance. 

It was so slow I didn’t even notice it creep back into my heart. Like the thawing of the deep winter freeze, spring has slowly bloomed something in me. Something like new life.

All of a sudden I find myself singing again. Smiling again - not the practiced, forced smile I’ve been wearing for two and a half years. A smile that comes from place of deep joy in my heart. And, something I realized today, I’m dancing again.

David danced with all his might. I get this guy. I get the deep welling of joy and gratitude and praise that wants to come out through movement. A song asks the question, “Will I dance for you Jesus, or in awe of you be still?”

I will dance.

Even now. It might not be impressive by anyone’s standards, but the dance is beginning to slip out when I’m cleaning. When I’m cooking. When I’m forgetting my sadness.

I will dance.

0 comments:

cas anderson (2016) . Powered by Blogger.