To dance …

dance

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I only learned to dance because I had to. I was quickly acquainted with my proper left foot and my other left foot which was in actuality my right foot. They both seemed to have minds of their own transporting me to the left and right usually in direct opposition to all of the people around me who seemed to move with an ease and flow that my feet could not match.

I discovered that if I could not see the feet of the individual that I was meant to copy I was up the creek without a paddle. As long as a good model of what this choreography was supposed to look like was ahead of me, I had a hope of watching their feet and hoping that I would be able to match them.

After rehearsals, I would come home and stand in front of the mirror and dance. However, at home there was no one to follow except the image reflecting back to me. The music would play, I would move, but frequently the movement was absolutely wrong. The level of concentration required to simultaneously move the feet, the body and to have the mouth sing foreign words was exhausting and incredibly frustrating.

With enough practice, I developed a reasonable level of proficiency. It became fun instead of an exercise in futility.

Amanda Cook’s Heroes has been the theme song of some of my mornings recently. The line in her song about feet dancing on disappointment has grabbed a hold of my heart for reasons I am not entirely sure of. It certainly cannot be because of my dancing skills for they are paltry at best!

However, disappointments in my life – that is something I am well acquainted with. At times, it has seemed as if the disappointments, the wishes that have seemingly passed me by, the dreams that rest in the box marked unfulfilled are the thing that is at the forefront of my heart and mind. Some of them are small disappointments that are easy to get over. It was not as big a deal as I thought it had been. Next. Others have been monumental and have knocked me sideways as the despair has threatened to swamp me. These ones have caused the tears to flow and the melancholy to dig its trench a little deeper. Often the stiff upper lip has been required – if no one knows how much it hurts, surely it will pass. It has taken time to come to terms with these heart wrenching hurts. And even then, sometimes they come back like an uninvited guest.

In my imagination my dancing is graceful, smooth and coordinated. It has the correct flow and feel. To dance on my disappointments implies that the disappointments are underfoot, trampled, powerless to hurt my heart and soul. The victory is obvious, sustained and sure. Oh to live a hope filled life like that consistently. I want to live a life full of that kind of hope. To experience all that life has for me – the joy and sorrows, hopes and disappointments, to fully live. But when the disappointments and sorrows come, because they will, I pray for eyes focused on the One who is the best holder of my hand and for feet that choose to dance.

 

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