"…And when you get the choice
to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance…"
-Wommack
I thought, after hearing this song, over-and-over again when it was a chart topper, that I would be fine if I never heard it again…even though, at the time, I couldn't get enough of it…for a while. I actually thought that it was going to become known as the millennial version of "Feelings". But I am here to admit, at least for me – and to myself…and you, that I was wrong. I still love this song! It's one of those songs that I think, "Dang, I wish I had written that." It's the kind of song I wish I could leave as a legacy. It's the kind of life I want to live all written out and set to music. I think, for me (again, I can only speak for myself) the difference is in the power of these lyrics on the human heart…it is an imperative message of encouragement and hope. And I love hope. I think after grace and kindness, hope has become my new favorite quality to cherish and live in wonder with.
"…I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance…"
As a little girl I wanted to dance. I didn't mind that my parents, raising eight children, didn't have the money for musical instruments or piano lessons but boy did I want to dance. I tried to teach myself everything I could. I would go to ballet classes with my friends and then in the privacy of our family's one bathroom later that night…with a towel holder for my barre…I would work my way through all five positions, check my arabesque in the mirror and attempt a pirouette in the small space between the sink and the bathtub. All while my siblings pounded on the door waiting for their turn at privacy…a very rare commodity in our house.
One afternoon as I sat in the dance studio while my friend Mary stood in front of the mirror with twelve other little girls in a black leotard and pink tights, her ballet teacher noticed that I was marking steps quietly from my place in the hard, brown, folding metal chair in the corner next to Mary's mom. Later she asked me if I could possibly help her with some chores around the studio and although, she apologized, she couldn't afford to pay me, I could take lessons for free. That began my "official" life as a dancer. I didn't care one bit that I didn't have a leotard or tights like the other girls for the first few months (eventually the teacher gave me a hand-me-down leotard of her older daughters) and my scuffed, used ballet slippers had a small hole that my left big toe would pop through on occasion, I was dancing. I didn't care that they giggled that my shorts and tee-shirt were not "right". I was dancing. They, on the other hand, were snickering and gossiping. I somehow knew, even then, that dance was a mental discipline…hadn't I danced in my head for months from my perch on that hard metal chair…and that it would take all of my mental focus to be "a real dancer". So I didn't have time for thinking about what they were thinking. I wanted to dance. And I did. The rest of the story is a book, and I don't think anyone has time today to read a book about my journey through the world of dance. This is about doing what your heart "can't not do" and not worrying about anyone but God as an audience.
"…I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance…
And dance…"
Last night Jeff and I were on our nightly walk through the Loop and realized that after a full day of care-giving –- patients, clients, our children…and each other – we hadn't eaten. We stopped and picked up a slice of pizza and a salad from a small stand. Then we took it our late-night feast out to a picnic table to eat while listening to a couple of young guys jamming Jimmi Hendrix riffs on guitars from the stage where small summer concerts are often held. At 10PM on a Wednesday, there were only a few of us there for their late-night Woodstock. But those of us who were there were thoroughly entertained. They were "dancing" whether anyone was watching or not. And we were inspired. They had found a time slot for being on stage that no one else wanted and were making the most of it. And I was moved by their courage. The Loop is the "cool" place to hang out and they were not afraid, even at 10PM, to let their hair down and really let it rip. There was something quite royal and majestic about their sweet confidence that humbled me.
"..I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance…
And dance…"
Just before we finished our impromptu meal a dad stopped with his very tiny 20-month-old daughter who had been sleeping in her stroller on a late night walk and was roused by the music. Wide-awake now she struggled to be released from the stroller harness and once the buckle was unsnapped she was out of that stroller and dancing. Her eyes were fixed on those teenage "rock stars" and she bounced and swayed and twirled…as if no one was watching. She couldn't take her eyes off of them…and they played -- for this miniature fan dancing her heart out before them -- as if she were a bank of teenagers pressing against the stage at a large concert arena with ten-foot speaker towers blasting their music for 20,000 fans and a team of security guards holding girls back from rushing the stage.
It was a moment of pure joy to watch. I don't think those boys missed an intended note. Their improvisation was complete magic. And their two-foot tall fan twirled and bounced and tripped blithely across the brick and concrete plaza with the grace of a ballerina and the energy of Savion Glover.
It was a moment in which I was reminded that we can dance wherever we are. I love that King David, one of the greatest Bible heroes of his time, and a leader with enormous humility, strength and grace… danced. In Second Samuel it says, "And David danced before the Lord with all his might…" Can you imagine this, the King getting up and just letting loose…"with all his might". Some of you may have seen video (I caught it on Jon Stewart) of President Bush dancing with an African dance troupe during a visit with their ambassador…it can be quite an embarrassing experience for some "kings". But I had to give him credit…he did it.
Sometimes when I am happy and can't contain myself I can still be found flying through the air in some resurrected version of my former dancer-self en pointe and ready to enter stage left. My arabesque is not as perfectly executed as it once was, and it embarrasses my daughters to no end when it happens in a grocery store, or at a camp dance and to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody"…but it is me. The dancer in me still sits quietly within my mom-self marking the steps from a new chair. The chair is longer brown and metal and designed to be folded up and put out of the way…but the moment is just as ripe with promise and I am always ready for one more sequence of steps across a polished wooden floor.
"…And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance...
Dance...
I hope you dance…"
With Love,
Kate
