"perfectly balanced..."

"I am waiting in a silent prayer
I am frightened by the load I bear..."

Sara Groves' song, "Breath of Heaven," is keynoting this post, because it has helped me find my center this morning.

When I look at Mary's story, and I can't help but think about how centered she must have been on God's purpose for her. I believe that it is this alignment with God -- rather than being pulled and tilted in a million little directions by the weight of fear -- that allows us to move forward with grace -- perfectly centered on Love's purpose for us.

And that is what this post is all about -- centering. And balance.

As a dancer, finding my core - aligning myself with a central thread which runs straight through my being -- then moving out from that core-centered sense of my orientation to the space I am in, has always allowed me to move freely, confidently, gracefully, fearlessly, and boldly.

Pausing to realign my sense of body -- even for a millisecond - was critical to moving with beauty and balance.

So what does this have to do with today -- and everyday.

As a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, partner, neighbor, professional, I spent many years trying to keep my life in balance. That meant rushing back and forth, round and round, trying to evenly distribute the weight -- of time, money, attention, focus -- so that nothing tipped over.

I remember when the twins were toddlers, how obsessed I became with an even distribution of my time, attention, resources, and affection between all three of our children.

I can recall nights when I would actually count how many times I'd rubbed one of the girl's backs -- during hymns and prayers --  to make sure that my time was evenly distributed and fairly meted out.

But one day, all that changed. I was failing at this kind of balancing. I never felt as if I was giving enough to anyone -- compared to what I'd given another. And I always felt as if I was running around a big plate placing a little here, only to tip it to the point that I now had to run to the other side and try to even things out from there.

I decided to look up the word balance in the tattered old dictionary on my office shelf. And that was when I remembered what it felt like to be balanced as a dancer. The first definition read:

"perfectly centered on the fulcrum"

A fulcrum is the point on which something rests. Imagine a teeter-totter (or a see-saw) the plank is centered on a beam. That beam is the fulcrum.

Or imagine a small plate that is being balanced on the eraser end of a pencil. One can either put the plate on the pencil and then try to adjust the weight around the edge of the plate so that there is even distribution, or center the plate perfectly on the eraser tip.

As I dancer, I could either try to make sure that I was putting the same amount of weight on both sides of my body, our I could realign myself with my core. One made me feel wobbly -- and was virtually impossible and implausible to do while dancing beautifully. The other allowed me to dance with confidence, strength, and grace.

So, back to my life. I'd been rushing around madly trying to make sure that I was giving everyone (and everything) their fair share. When what I really needed to do was continually realign myself with God. To constantly have God at the center of everything I do keeps me in alignment and leads to a balanced sense of living, loving, and being in the world.

Every dancer knows that a good choreographer has built in counts that give you an opportunity to pause long enough to make sure that you are in core alignment before another series of demanding movements. I believe that God, the Great Choreographer, builds these into my life. I just have to be "marking" my steps and listening for those moments of "rest" He has provided for me in my day.

In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy says that:

"Fear, which is an element of all dis-ease,
must be cast out
to readjust the balance for God."

When I put Love -- another name for God, and the opposite of fear -- at the center of my life and let it be the only music I dance to, I am free to walk, and leap, and praise God with a free, and balanced, heart. 

offered with Love, 

Kate

"I pray you dance..."

"…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.

Give the heavens above
more than just a passing glance…
and dance…"

I love Leann Wommack's version of "I Hope You Dance," and used it in an earlier post by the same title a few years ago, but this version of "I Hope You Dance," by Ronan Keating takes me apart...especially that last line.

Dance seems to be an inspirational theme today...friends Heather, Traci*, and Sandy have posted dance-related inspiration...so I think I'll stay with their theme,  and walk  forward into this sea of whirling dervishes a bit and see where it takes me.

I am a dancer...ballet was my discipline, but take me to a wedding, or a country bar with a great band, and I'm just as happy as a child.  I love the feeling of having the moving air lift my hair off my shoulders, while my bare feet skip and slide through the long grass at a blue grass festival,  or worn slippers...of the palest pink leather...leap off the wooden floorboards of an old stage...I am in heaven.

My body is my partner in those moments.  We are a celebration of the marriage between mind, body, and spirit.  There is a sense of wholeness in the way music is interpreted as movement.  It is this sense of wholeness, that brings the coincidence of divinity with humanity into clear focus for me....almost like no other single experience or act.   To understand God as the divine Choreographer is the definition of "integrity" for me.

Integrity, integration, integral...nothing separate, fragmentary, silo-ed, categorized...no hierarchy between Mind, Soul, Spirit...Love.   Mary Baker Eddy,  in Miscellaneous Writings 1883 - 1896:

"In Science,
body is the servant of Mind,
not its master:
Mind is supreme.."

And since the body is the servant of Mind (one of the seven synonymous names for God) then, it is also the servant of Love, Principle, Truth, Life, Soul, and Spirit.

The body, dancing to the music of Love's urging, embraces a friend, carries a child out of harm's way, walks any distance to reach someone in need.

The body, swaying to the rhythms of Truth's demanding, swings its legs over the edge and rises from the bed of pain, sweeps the floor, swings a hammer during a Habitat for Humanity project.

The body, stepping to the precision of Principle's march, places a firm, but gentle hand on the shoulder of a despairing neighbor, neatly braids the child's hair, bends to lift the weary and the weak.

The body, leaping at the opportunity to serve Spirit, joyfully bounds onto the basketball court, quickly steps into the fray, effortlessly slips into the hand of the fearful offering comfort.

The body, weaving beauty at Soul's persuasion, sweeps her bow across a cello's strings, breathes a lullaby through the nursery, paints a garden in the midst of urban blight.

The body, poised in anticipation of Love's direction, sits in stillness with the widow, expectantly watches for the errant child, patiently serves, persistently waits.

This body...that so faithfully serves Mind's holy, sacred purpose...is beautiful, graceful, flexible, strong, and full of promise. 

Let it dance...

This was a helpful reminder yesterday, when everything in me said, "you can't possibly move freely"...I just kept repeating, "let it dance..."  And it did.

I pray you dance...with Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

*And if you need something to remind you of how much fun dancing is, watch this "Dancing at the Movies" video...thanks Traci for the reminder!! 

"Show me the meaning of being lonely..."

"Show me the meaning of being lonely
Is this the feeling I need to walk with
Tell me why I can't be there where you are
There's something missing in my heart..."
- The Backstreet Boys

It was the fall of 2000, and Hannah was dancing competitively with "the Conservatory."  As much as I didn't like some aspects of competitive dancing...obsessive moms, makeup on pre-teens, being surrounded by dance teams with costumes that were barely appropriate (thank you, Katie Sue for always putting our girls in tastefully designed outfits that covered what needed to be covered)...I loved the comraderie I saw as the girls worked together as a cohesive team.

Hannah, Kelsey, and Megan were the Three Musketeers.  Kelsey was the girl with the perfect dancer's body...long, lean, flexible, and fluid.  Megan was the showman...charismatic on stage, a smile that stopped time, and an incredible sense of rhythm.  Hannah was the blue-collar dancer...hardworking, precise, relentlessly demanding of herself, rigorous in perfecting her steps, turns, and leaps.  They were lovely and funny, and as a threesome they were a force to be reckoned with.  Within the larger company of a dozen or more extremely talented dancers, they were unstoppable..pure beauty in motion!  At least to their biggest fans...us, their parents.

On a typical competition weekend one of the moms would drive Hannah, Kelsey, and Megan to Denver on Friday night and check into a hotel room. The other two moms would join them on Saturday, just in time for their first performance.  Friday nights in the hotel were full of orange-dusted Doritos fingers, root beer, popcorn, and bags full of food from McDonald's.  Once in the crowded hotel room, costumes were hung in the bathroom to steam while the girls showered, and moms organized curling irons, mascara, tights, and leotards. 

Saturdays and Sundays were peppered with running between marked off dressing areas in ballrooms and the performance hall, endless bottles of Gatorade, and hundreds of giggling girls in spandex and sequins.

I loved my fellow dance parents.  Laurie, Jane, Lynn, Kendall, Linda, and about a dozen other moms and dads.  We knew eachother's daughters so well we could order their sandwiches from Subway without asking "what do you want on it".

We were having so much fun, just being together, that it didn't really matter what happened once they got on stage. We were going to cheer them on while they performed, when they faltered we'd encourage them to realize that they had given it their all, and on the drive home, help them remember that the next time they would do better because of all they'd learned.   Little did I know that autumn, that by February our family would have moved a thousand miles away and although Hannah would fly home, on weekends, for the rest of the competitive season, I would never again spend another Saturday in a Holiday Inn near Denver International Airport watching a seemingly endless number of dance routines, set to the music of the Backstreet Boys, Madonna, 'NSynch, Cyndi Lauper, or my favorite that season, Sarah McLaughlin's "I will Remember You."

Our family's relocation to the midwest, far away from all things fun and familiar was only the beginning of my lesson in learning" the meaing of being lonely". During the next few years, I would face one instance after another  when the "ties that bind" were gently being untied, and my little boat was being pushed away from the dock and out into open water...times when I was absolutely sure I was would just drift helplessly into the dark sea of despair. 

During the most lonely of these times, I often recalled one particularly sweet afternoon from those dance competition days.  Hannah and I had driven to Denver by ourselves, so that we could enjoy a short visit with my sister and brother-in-law, her aunt and uncle.  We'd had a fun dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant and were on our way back to the hotel listening to the Backstreet Boys CD, "Millenium" which includes "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely."  Since Hannah was learning American Sign Launguage at the university Laboratory School she attended, and I was a fluent signer, we were singing with our hands, as well as our voices...trying to remember the right sign for each word or phrase.   I loved signing to music and watching Hannah's hands move from word to word, was like seeing her dance in a new way.

I remember thinking that the word "lonely" was not only a sad word, but a sad sign.  A forward extended circle made with the index finger from the lips down, out, and around, returning to it original position in front of the lips.  The sign itself is supposed to be accompanied by a somewhat somber facial expression.  There was a sobering silence in that sign.  It was the opposite of our somewhat raucous weekend with our dance family.  It seemed incongrous in the context of all the giggling, cheering, whistling, singing that seemed to fill our weekend.   Where did "loneliness" fit within the cacophonous sea of 18 girls (age 11 - 18) getting dressed at the same time.  By Sunday, I was often unsure if my hearing was still intact...but never suffering from loneliness.  To see my daughter singing this song in the midst of such an exuberant weekend was unsettling in some ways. In hindsight, it felt like the hand of prophecy pointing towards the next bend in the road on my spiritual journey

And it was always...every time I heard it...that line, "Is this the feeling I need to walk with" that seemed to make my heart stammer.  How could any boy-band sing about the need to walk with the feeling of loneliness?   It wasn't a concept I was looking for the opportunity to ponder deeply during that weekend of frolic and friendship, but it kept poking at me.  And to be honest,  I couldn't imagine the strength it took to actually embrace it.

In the coming months that phrase started to haunt my steps.  It was almost as if I knew what was coming.  I would hear it and my hands would start to feel as if they were dissolving in front of me as I felt myself begin to sign the words without meaning to.  My days of walking in the space of loneliness were about to begin.

In referring to Jesus' time following the crucifixion, while in the sepulchre, Mary Baker Eddy  states in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:

"The lonely precincts of the tomb gave Jesus a refuge from his foes, a place in which to solve the great problem of being."

Soon many of the friendships I'd held dear seemed to fall away. It was a  particularly challenging period of spiritual discovery.  A time of self-examination and of being fully engaged in crucifying a false sense of my self, my ego, and all the ways that it seemed to define my expereince.  Surprisingly,  I found myself holding onto this particular statement  from Science and Health for encouragement...and hope.  And I would sometimes catch myself signing the words to the above verse of "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" to myself in the dark before I fell asleep.  I often signed the Lord's Prayer, or the 23rd Psalm to myself at night, lying on my back in the dark, so this was not unusal.   And although at times it felt as if I was in a period of self-imposed exile from my friends, and all that I held dear and familiar, I also discovered that, in the silence of my own company -- from deep within the confines of that profoundly alone sanctuary of my sepulchre space --  I was also  finding, as Eddy promised, refuge from my foes - the dark and insidious suggestions of self-doubt, regret, anger, frustration...and in this space, I could begin to glimpse Christ's solution to the great problem of being.

I could, as "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" (this link is the acapella version) suggested, walk with that feeling of loneliness, until I discovered its meaning in my life.  I could companion with it, until  it blessed me with the only kind of friendship that no one, and nothing,  could take away...my oneness with God, with Love. 

I believe that this is the space that Paul is speaking to us from in Romans when he says:

"I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

When we cease to see ourselves as the object, or recipient of love, and begin to accept our relationship to "the love of God" as its vehicle, its body, its articulation of being, and not its destination, we being to live life as one who can never be deprived of love...because the only love that matters in our lives, the only love that is divine, is the love that we ourselves embody or express.

For me, this was the meaning of loneliness.  To teach me that my relationship to Love is only as strong and inviolate, as my willingness to rise from the ashes of hurt, shame, anger, betrayal, sadness, sorrow, exhaustion, and "love more."  This Love "alone is Life."

These days, with Jeff in Boston and the girls coming and going...school, soccer, their dad and Melinda's house, friends...I spend a lot of time alone...but I am never lonely.  Once I learned its meaning and purpose, I discovered that every silent moment in the "sepulchre" was an opportunity to  fill my heart with the pure joy of consciously being the love of Love for anything and everything that crossed my mental path.  And when I am in this space I  enjoy the company of dancing, singing, signing angels...my best friends.  

with love...and with Love....
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit: Lila June Jones 2009]

"I loved her first..."

"...I loved her first and I held her first
And a place in my heart will always be hers
From the first breath she breathed
When she first smiled at me
I knew the love of a father runs deep
And I prayed that she'd find you someday
But it still hard to give her away
I loved her first..."
- Heartland

As a lyricist, primarily known for writing (and loving) wedding songs, how did this one, "I Loved Her First," (click on the title to hear the song) get by me...and more bafflingly, why didn't I write it???

There are a few songs in this world that from the very first time I hear the "hook," I wish I could start the moment over...and listen to it for the first time...again, and again, and again.  My own musical version of the film "Ground Hog Day."  This song was no different.  But I am getting ahead of myself.

Early Sunday morning I scooted through a security checkpoint at St. Louis Lambert Airport, to board a flight for Los Angeles, where my friend Dick Davenport would pick me up and whisk me off to Palos Verdes for his daughter Beth's wedding. 

Beth had been in my Sunday School class for three years, I'd been her sponsor for a stunning Senior project on liturgical dance, and we've become very close friends over the last seven years.  Beth and her family have never been less than kind, compassionate, generous and embracing.  Dad Dick, mom Jerri, sisters Amanda and Natalie, and brother Brian are as dear to me as my own family.

When Beth and Ricahrd asked me to co-officiate their wedding, I was honored by the invitation, and humbled by their recognition of, and enduring trust in, my commitment to the sacrament of marriage.  The timing couldn't have been more perfect.  I was home from camp, the girls were on holiday in Maine, Jeff would be at work in Boston, and Mollie would get to have a playdate with her new puppy-friends - Izzie and Kaylie and their family, the Dooracks.  Saying yes was a joy.

I had met Beth's fiancé the first week they started dating. It was the beginning of their freshman year of college, and she brought him to Sunday School with her.  I knew he was "the one" by the way he loved what was most important in this world to her with as much devotion as she did...her family. 

The Davenport family makes a person feel like they have found something rare and beautiful in this world when they take you in, and care for your heart.  And Richard, Beth's fiancé was taken into their hearts and home with complete, pervasive, and unconditional love. And he fit right it. He laughed at all the right spots in movies like Stripes and Anchorman with Brian. He became another big brother (along with Amanda's, then fiance'...now husband, Ben) to Natalie, and he was every bit a part of Davenport family gatherings...talking, playing games, helping with whatever projects needed an extra pair of hands.

And he "got" Bethany. He loved her, as much as her parents and siblings did. I have always loved the way Beth shares every bit of her life with her family.  They laugh, cry, pray, and work together.  And Richard joined her in that sharing.  I have watched them grow as a couple, and as an integral part of the Davenport family tapestry of living and giving...and it is a beautiful fabric...without seam or rent.

However, as much as I have loved watching the tender relationship Beth has with her siblings and mom, having spent my post high school years without a dad, it was her relationship with Dick that has been most endearing and instructive to me.

Jerri and Dick have beautiful relationships with each of their children, but Beth and Dick have a relationship that can best be described as "choreography".  It is more beautiful than a ballet and more remarkable than the synchronization of hundreds of aspen leaves turning towards the sun on a bright Colorado morning.  There is an ease of movement...light one moment, strong and sure the next...that characterizes the beauty of what I have witnessed over the years. And it is this same sense of choreographed beauty that was tangible at the reception when the DJ announced that they would be taking the dance floor for their daddy-daughter dance. Dick and Bethany taught ballroom and swing dancing together at her high school, and there was an almost weightless sense of movement through space between them. It speaks to the nature of their relationship as father and daughter...a burdenless joy, a trust-filled peace.

I have written wedding songs just for the purpose of daddy-daughter dances, and so my heart was momentarily suspended in air while I waited for the first chords to resonate through the room so that I could identify a familiar love song.  But when the music started, I didn't recognize it...at all. Since I love wedding songs...and lyrics...I listened closely to each word...hanging on phrases that caught me off guard.

And when I heard Heartland's swell - a growing crescendo of parental love - towards the line, "...but I loved her first, and I held her first..." there was an immediate catch in my throat, tears burst from my eyes and heart, and a sob leapt from my chest without warning.

To see Dick waltzing Beth around the dance floor was breath-taking in light of these lyrics.  I can't imagine there was a dry eye in the house, but I will never know because soon I couldn't see for the sting of my own tears.

It was the highlight of my day. I felt as if I had waited seven years to see that one dance. I had to leave the reception soon after their dance, to catch a red-eye flight back to St. Louis so that I could welcome the girls back from Maine, but I spent the next 11 hours from there to here, thinking about that song...about Beth, Richard, Dick and Jerri, and their families, looking for a spiritual lesson...and benediction...in that deeply moving moment.

What I began to wrestle with, first, in the wee small hours of the morning high over Colorado or Kansas, was my own sadness. Sorrow that, because of my dad's untimely passing, I had never known a daddy-daughter dance. I felt deep sorrow that so many young men and women, for whatever reason, might never experience the kind of relationship with their parents...or step-parents...that I saw reflected in Dick and Beth's faces as they waltzed around and around, Dick leading her lightly over the the gleaming wood of the dance floor. They might never know the look of love and joy on a mother's face, the way Jerri's face looked as she watched them sweep and dip, laugh and twirl together in time with the music.. 

I prayed deeply for all of us. Then it dawned on me, I do have that kind of a relationship with my divine Parent...with my Father-Mother God...we all do.  He/She "loved us first".  Or as John promises in I John:

"We love him, because he first loved us."

He first loved us...from even before "the first breath we breathed" or first smiled at our moms, dads, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents or friends...we knew the love of a Father that runs deep.  And we have always known how it feels to have a Father-Mother who never  has to give us away...but shares us with eachother so that we can show Him that we have learned the lessons of loving unconditionally He has so generously, patiently, and wisely taught us.

Whether you are a bride like Beth in a diaphanous white gown, an Indian princess in a brightly colored sari, a young mom alone in an apartment hoping for love, and cherishing the qualities of husband (and father) you long to bring into your child's life, a shy Iraqi bride in a burka, a fifty (or seventy) something bride standing face-to-face with the love of her life...again, a couple on the steps of a San Francisco courthouse, or a teen bride exchanging vows with your young groom just before he ships out for a desert base in the Mid East on his first tour of duty...you have a Father who loved you first.  And you have a Mother who cherishes the strength of that relationship, and the tenderness with which you are held in his arms as He dances you through life...one stanza at a time.

Beth's wedding was a gift to me.  Not only did I have the privilege of standing with her, and Richard, as they pledged themselves to one another, before their family and friends.  But I was reminded, in the dark afterglow of a beautiful wedding, while flying through a clear moonlit sky, that I have a Father "who loved me first"...we all do.

Congratulations Beth and Richard...may your hearts grow together in faith, hope, trust, grace...and love...never forgetting that He loved you first.

always, 
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit: Darcey Snyder 2009]

Dance....I hope you dance...

"...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..."
-     Lee Ann Wommack

My friend, Brooke, posted this Youtube video on her facebook profile with the message: "This is what I want to do with my life now!"



After watching it I can understand why. 

I got a little taste of the spirit of this video during my trip to South Africa over the last few weeks.  Being thousands of miles from anything familiar...except my daughters face...it was easy to see that there are some things that all people have in common.  We all want the same things...we want to feel like we have a reason for dancing...at a beloved child's happy wedding, the success of a friend's new business, our own heart's racing with  the joy and passion of true love, the smile on a neighbor's face when we show up with cookies on Christmas Eve...the triumph of good over evil, honesty over dishonesty, grace over arrogance, and love over hate.

The last leg of my travel took me into, and through, a long night on a crowded (not an empty seat to be found) jet...or should I say a bus on wings!  By the time we reached Washington/Dulles International airport in D.C. we were tired from trying to sleep in narrow seats, an hour late, all rushing to get through customs, collect checked baggage, re-clear it through ATS, and jump on shuttles that would taxi us to new gates for connecting flights.  Forty-five frantic minutes after our plane touched down I was standing at the gate for my flight to St. Louis only to discover that it would be delayed another four and a half hours. 

I decided to wait with as much grace and joy as I could muster after 36 hours without sleep and vowed to actually celebrate Christmas in Terminal A.  Once I made my pact to do it, and do it with love, I looked around and saw that it wasn't such a bad place to be stuck for the morning.  The shops along the terminal were festooned with pine boughs, glittering strings of tiny white lights, and red velvet bows.  The scent of baked muffins, scones, and bagels from the coffeehop/bakery next to my gate was lovely, and people were smiling.  I decided to smile too.

I wandered the terminal collecting a hot chocolate from the recently naturalized US citizen with three small children who lived 15 miles from the airport and only made minimum wage, but loved making travelers feel welcome in "the capital of our United States of America", and a bagel from the young woman whose ID holder held her official badge on one side and a picture of her at her high school graduation in cap and gown holding her 13 month old daughter who was getting a singing teddy bear for Christmas.  I then settled into a seat at the gate with my knitting and my breakfast to commune with the stranded strangers, and spread my traveling office out on the seat next to me.

Within minutes I saw a familiar face.  It was the jolly man from the first row in economy on my long transatlantic flight, who had greeted me with a smile each time I exited the business class loo (I was such a rebel...I think he felt we were in cahoots in defying the "this loo is for first class passengers only" message from the cabin crew) and made me feel like we were part of a "community" way back there in the cheaper seats.

He, his mom, and sister were now waiting for their connecting flight at the gate next to mine and we easily struck up a conversation.  They lived in Capetown and had traveled to the states for the holidays to visit a son/brother in Atlanta.  Before long we were sharing andecdotes and laughter.  At one point the sister...who now felt like an old friend...said, "I don't know how other women balance work and motherhood..."  A trailing sentence that left me with a sense of sisterhood after only 30 minutes of conversation and 10,000 miles of shared misery on an Airbus 349. 

I suddenly realized that we were not from different cultures or places, we were from the same place.  The place that all mothers share as a homeland...the place where we want to be good mothers and yet also give our children an example of living lives of contribution and vision, purpose and passion.  We were sisters of the same Mother who had vested us with a desire to "do it right"...whatever "right" was....

This realization was like waking to a larger sense of family.  It was reminiscent of an experience I had as a child when looking up at the windows of an apartment building late one night while driving through a random Midwest city on a family vacation I caught a glimpse of a couple talking in their kitchen.  For the first time I realized that the universe did not revolve around me.  These people did not even know I existed and yet they had full lives with cares and interests I didn't even know about.  It was paradigm shifting for me then...and it was paradigm re-aligning for me last week.

As I go about my days preparing for the holidays...I pray that I can remember that people everywhere are looking for an opportunity to dance.  I hope my smile, some small kindness shown or good deed done can give them reason to kick up their heels and celebrate the life we share as children of the same joy-inspiring homeland.

Thanks Brooke...for reminding me of how I want to live my life, II Samuel says it best..."And David danced before the Lord with all his might"....I'm with David on this one!
Kate

"Your Love keeps lifting me...higher and higher..."

"Your love is lifting me higher
Than I've ever been lifted before…"
- Jackie Wilson

Okay, so this is the song that was playing in my head when I woke up this morning…but not just the above verse…no, nothing so soothing…it was the more rock and rolling (or as the Rockabelles say) Barack and roll-ing part of the song:

"Your love keeps lifiting me
Keeps on lifting me
Higher…higher and higher…

Your love keeps lifting me
Keeps on lifting me
Higher…higher and higher…"

Over and over again it played through my heart and then it started spreading out to my arms and legs and through to my fingers and toes…flying from my fingertips and toes like sparks on the Fourth of July.  It was a prayer.  And like King David I "danced before the Lord with all [my] might".  I felt like I could have run through the streets…running and leaping and praising God. 

The wonderful part was that there was no real reason.  I simply felt happy to know that I am His…that I am God's child, idea, statement, song…it was enough. 

Then it hit me, this was true for my children. Each of them…in South Africa, California, Missouri, Florida…each of them was waking up to the very same truth about themselves.  They were walking in a world where they were exactly who they were supposed to be…themselves.  They were part of a divine design.  Everyone they met as they walked on beaches, skied down mountains, rode the Matterhorn, rehearsed for a dance performance or worked in an office, was also part of that perfect design.  Everything fit. 

I went to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of orange juice before stepping out onto the deck.  Still, with even more rhythm and joy, this wonderful prayer-in-song played through my heart.  As I looked out on the street I could see college students and young moms with strollers negotiating narrow sidewalks as then made their way to school and daycare.  They too were part of a perfect pattern.  Exuberant toddlers giving hurrying college professors the opportunity to be patient as the shared the sidewalk, and students generously offering to carry a diaper bag or a car seat for an overburdened mom loading up the day's necessities into the mini van.

I felt like every thought and act of love lifted humanity higher and higher in the scale of being.  It was as if I could actually see us all elevating above the silliness of political parrying, gossip, ambition, and greed. 

Love…that most powerful verb…does lift us higher.  Each time we face down ignorance, apathy, and tolerance with real brotherly compassion and understanding we bring the whole human family with us in ascending out of mortality. Whenever we refuse to deliver that scathing retort, or insist that kindness is more important than being best, or great, or first in line…we are reaching that place that is higher and higher.  When we love, we lift ourselves and others out of doubt and fear into the sunlight of truth…the truth that we are more than our history, our mistakes, or our circumstances, we are all, as Mary Poppins' ruler said, "practically perfect in every way"!!!   How could we not dance, like David, with all our might...
Kate

"I hope you dance..."

"…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