Dance, Dance Wherever You May Be
I can’t remember if it started while watching Donny and Marie or Sonny and Cher … possibly the Partridge Family … but sometime, while watching the variety shows so popular in the 70’s, my siblings and I decided to start our own family band. We had a split living room: half carpeted, half hard-wood floor, the perfect stage for our performances. Giant, vinyl-covered pillows on wheels (seriously, the style of 70’s was SO weird) were placed just so to denote our places on the stage, and as the record started we danced and sang like the Brady Bunch having a “Sunshine Day.”
So began my love of performing. My childhood was peppered with opportunities to entertain and participate in productions that fueled my passion. My sister and I honed our performance skills through dance and music lessons. Although I loved the beauty and grace of ballet, the high paced tip-tip-tapping of tap dance suited my spaztastic stylings a bit more. I. Was. A. Star. Especially in my orange-spangled, tasseled costume with matching headpiece. No one performed with a bigger smile or more enthusiasm.
Throughout the years my love of performing moved from stage to the safety of my dance hall of today: my kitchen. As I chop, measure and mix, I impress my audience (these days imagined) with my musical stylings. And the stress of the day melts away. I am near to God in those moments: “You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my soulmay praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever” (Psalm 30:11-12).
A transformation has happened within me over time. I may be the star of my own show in the safety of my home, but outside I have become a wallflower. I do not seek the spotlight, nor do I feel comfortable when it is upon me. Is this a sign that I am not being all that God made me to be? Or is it proof that I have accepted that priorities change with age, and I can gracefully allow others to shine?
The rhythm of my life has changed, and God has blessed me with three willing dance partners with whom I share my life. I can always count on a slow dance with my husband and a few grudging steps from my surly teen. My youngest son seeks out moments to show me his latest moves, learned through watching YouTube instead of the Saturday Soul Train sessions of my youth.
I watch my children become more concerned with the opinions of others than feeling the joy dancing can bring, but I suppose this is natural. It feels as if every motion can cause actual pain for the child with heightened self-awareness and doubts. It is a natural human instinct to seek approval in others. The real question isn’t whether we care what other people think, but rather how much we value what we think.
Do we worry about God’s approval as much as we do the approval of our peers?
Constantly trying to meet other people’s expectations is a painful and dissatisfying way to live. I pray that my children move through this stage and find joy without concern about what others think of them. May they have the support of loving family and friends that dance along with them through life.
Dance provides my daily release and allows me to be the best I can be for those I love the most. May we continue to dance through life, moving gently to our own rhythms.
