The Terrible Dance

I heard a phrase this morning that sent me back to my childhood. The men and women I was gathered with were sharing encouragement with each other for the common struggle that we share. One of the ladies used the phrase "the terrible dance" to describe the way she had allowed herself to be impacted and controlled by the difficulties that have made themselves known some days in her life. When I heard that phrase, my mind went almost immediately to the little white jewelry box lined with topaz silk and a tiny mirror to reflect the beautiful dance of that graceful ballerina.

What I remembered next is this: every time I looked for a bauble of mine and opened the lid on the jewelry box, that tiny ballerina had to dance. When I wanted to hear the music that came from the box, I opened the lid ... and she danced. Every time I lifted the lid, she had to dance because the design and mechanism insisted that she dance.

Looking at that tiny ballerina in my mind's eye, I saw myself. Too many times, I've climbed into a different kind of box and danced to music that came from some unknown place and danced, I did, when someone or something else told me that I should. It was the design of that choice, the mechanism of living my life for someone other than the Creator of this life. It was the design and mechanism and telling myself that what others thought of me, what would please others mattered more than what I want, feel, think, and know myself.

I know that life can be a beautiful, glorious, joyful dance. I've seen it, I've felt it, and on occasion, I've danced it. But, not inside a box like that. I choose now to dance only to the music that my Creator sings over me and allows to bubble up within me. I choose today not to climb into any box that dictates how and when and to what music I'll dance. Instead, I want to feel the freedom and courage it will require to dance whenever I hear my music. I know it's possible.

Besides, me, in a tutu? Really?