I hope you can dance

Young girl in cultural costume dancing.
Snow White sang and danced during a dark time in her life when the wicked Queen was searching for her.

Snow White danced, surrounded by people she loved. Most of all, she danced because she loved them. (Really? All of them? Some of those little men were ones only a mother could love. Yup, even "Dear, ol' Grumpy.")

Snow White didn't let fear keep her from the festival of joy in the moment.

I like Snow White. We can learn from her example.

My husband doesn't like to dance in public, so I've given up most pubic shows of energetic reactions to music that tempt me to sway more than an inch.

Some days we feel like dancing.

This last Sunday, I spent the day with a young grandson who turned 6. We were going to go to the Children's Museum in Portland, but first he came with me to church. We were in good spirits, and he was eager to tell everyone the good news (that he was 6, not the other Good News).

We sat near the back of the church, the second to the last row. He enjoyed clapping gently and swinging my hands in time to the contemporary Christian music played during the service. We might have swayed more than an inch.

Some people joke that Presbyterians are the "frozen chosen;" We're not known for our dancing. I remembered. And I didn't want to break our long-held traditions, so I kept our swaying to the beat to a minimum and taught him to clap without a sound. We had fun. And the people behind us were smiling.

Remembered seasons of dancing
In younger days, when I lived in Mexico for a season, helping missionaries, I saw young dancers in similar native costumes as the one pictured in this blog post. Their dances in a plaza and on stage were joyous celebrations of their culture.

The Bible reminds us seasons change:

For everything there is an appointed time,
and an appropriate time for every activity on earth: ...
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

Some days we may experience a season when the music has dimmed, our feet lie still. There are times we cannot dance, should not dance, wish we could dance, and we pray for the time of dancing to once again come. We weep. We mourn. For a season.

Sometimes we may feel constrained, like a "frozen chosen," not by a season of mourning, but by habits, rules, others looking at us, confusion over what is appropriate, or who knows what if we really looked deep into our hearts?

Even when we feel constrained to join fully in the dance of life, celebrating, God is not constrained. He is at work, changing the seasons, changing those around us, changing us.

During the silent seasons, especially, let us grip God's hand. And wait. He promises a hopeful future, a coming time of dancing for the spiritual offspring of Abraham.

Once again you will take up the tambourine
and join in the happy throng of dancers.
-- Jeremiah 31:4b

So, if we hear the music of God's love for each of us, may we dance, publicly, privately, alone, together, here, now, today. 

And may we dance because God holds our hands.


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