Dance on Your Disappointment

Monday we stood on the dusty roadside of a mountain pass peering under the open hood of our van.  Acrid, too hot scent stinging our noses.  An irregular knocking filling our ears.  Only one set of eyes knew what they were seeing, but five hearts were sinking.  We were supposed to be off on an adventure, having a change, a rest.  The only wise choice was to turn around and try to get back to the nearest town.

Naturally, there were tears and questions.  The little one leaned against me with a small sob and said, "We've had a lot of disappointments lately, Mommy."  I knew she was thinking of the Big Disappointment which was now about six weeks past but still fresh in our hearts.  Then she asked how I could bear this one.  The simple answer was, "I know He loves me."  Deeper than that, I had an epiphany right there in that melting mountain pass--I'd claimed Hope Territory in the time of the Big Disappointment.

We'd gone more than three months with mom, the heart and soul of the family, out of commission.  Quiet Christmas sans turkey dinner, limping along through the basics, postponing holidays, and continually praying for healing.  Into the fourth month and there was a cancellation, they would take me in for surgery.  Hope rose.  Only to be crushed after hours of waiting.  I'd have to be bumped to another day...a month away.  We cried together, feeling quite like we'd been taken out at the knees.  The long struggle had worn on us all.

I'd been sixteen hours without food, water or medication while waiting for my surgery.  With all those needs finally met, I slipped into the blessed relief of sleep while my family cuddled together with a movie.  A few hours later I returned to cognizance with one urgent thought, "You need to dance on this disappointment."

What a silly idea!  And not because, as my curly-haired family frequently tells me, I dance like a white woman.   Physically, I was no condition to dance and who dances anyway when they haven't got a clue how they're going to get through another month of this?  But I know that Voice and I've learned it's worth listening to...

So I found the song that said what I needed to say and I played it.  On repeat.  Loud enough to saturate my senses. And I sang and sang and twirled around as best I could until hope rose.  I sang and twirled some more until I was bursting with hope.  When I finally flopped down breathless I still didn't know how...how anything, but I knew that I knew that I knew that God loves me and that nothing is impossible for Him.  I knew that as long as I could dance on my disappointment, thereby declaring my confidence in His goodness, He would make something glorious out of this whole big mess.  For me and for my family.

Navigating disappointment isn't easy.  It's important to be honest and process our sadness.  But we can't live there.  Disappointment pulls with a tremendous gravitational force, trying to hold us down.  Self pity encourages us to put down roots in that place.  Disappointment is a place to go through.

We can, in fact, be "perplexed, but not in despair...cast down, but not destroyed."  Whether your setback is great or small, I encourage you to dance.  Dance on your disappointment. 

Dance.  As though your life depends on it.

What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord,

who have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem

When they walk through the Valley of Weeping

it will become a place of refreshing springs.

The autumn rains will clothe it with blessings.

They will continue to grow stronger, 

and each of them will appear before God in Jerusalem.

Psalm 84:5-7

2 Corinthians 4:8-10

Shining and Doing

"How do I let my light shine?"

He is intense and frustrated.

"How do I know that I'm doing it?"

He has a ferocious scowl when he's this serious.

I know, little son, I know.  But how do I explain it to you when it's a dance I'm still fumbling through myself?  I know the direction of the steps, but execute them better some days than others.  It'll be no help to explain the grammar of "letting".

I know it's not about doing.  And yet we crave the doing.

Check.

Yep.

Got it right.

There's so much safety in defining the doing and then checking it off as accomplished.  Never mind the security of knowing that those who choose to judge me will come to the conclusion that I'm getting it right.

Therein lies the essence of the Pharisees.  And exhaustion.  It's only attractive to those with the same disease.  To everyone else it looks like oppression.

It's more about being...which feels a bit too vague until you get in the habit.  Choosing gratitude, believing that He is good and His plans for us are good.  Living aware of His presence.   Meditating on His love and grace.  Every act becoming an act of worship.  Falling in love all over again.  Joy begins to bubble up and suddenly the light is shining whether you're rescuing orphans or holding the door for someone. Scrubbing the floor (again!) or feeding the homeless.   Light is shining!

It's not an excuse for not doing.  It's just that the doing comes out of the being.  It's the response of a lover rather than a laborer.  It's joy.  It's a beacon of hope.

And so I told him about the moon and the sun and how the moon reflects the sun when its face is turned to the light.  How living with our faces turned to the Son is what makes our light shine no matter what we're doing.  That might seem too abstract and complicated...to an adult.  His little brow smoothed and he snuggled in with a sigh.  He may not be able to explain it to someone else, but something deep inside resonated and he rested.

I'll walk with you, little man, and we'll learn the steps together.

At a Bar in Bowness

On a recent Sunday afternoon, I found myself in a bar Bowness. Not my usual Sunday afternoon haunt, but a friend of my friend was playing in a Blues band there and... I love good music and it was fantastic! If I closed my eyes, I could easily imagine I was listening to Diana Ross. If I opened them, I could see a fascinating array of characters...

There were the brokenhearted, the love-hungry, the poor and the rich, some who appeared slightly off their rockers, those who loved to dance, some who just tapped their toe and listened...everyone was there for the music that afternoon. In the midst of this kaleidoscope there were three women who captivated me...

The first was an ancient granny whose wrinkled black face was adorned with a beautiful smile. Her vibrant patchwork skirt and vivid yellow tights shouted out joy as she stomped to the music, hunched over her gnarled tree-limb walking stick.

I want to live with that sort of unabashed joy.

The second was a woman of significant proportions who could dance like no one I've ever seen before. She was completely unselfconscious. Her faced glowed with happiness. She embodied the music and it was beautiful.

I hear the rhythms of heaven, but I am too often conscious of myself and what others may think. I want to abandon myself to the music, to the song that the morning stars sing. I want to be a physical expression of the cadence of glory.

The third was a lady with only one leg. When the band began to play Lean on Me, she came up to the dance floor on crutches, set them aside, reached for her partner, and began to dance. Not hop, but dance. I don't quite know how she did it, but she wasn't hindered by what she didn't have. She was having fun. She had someone to lean on. Tears came to my eyes as I watched her.

I live much too aware of my weaknesses and inabilities. I want to live more aware of His strength. I want to lean on my Friend and dance, have His presence make up for what I lack.

I've been invited: "May I have this dance?"

I want to shout out my yes with abandon, without self-consciousness. I want to embody the rhythms of heaven.

For the Lord has redeemed Israel from those too strong for them.

They will come home and sing songs of joy

on the heights of Jerusalem.

They will be radiant because of the Lord's good gifts--

the abundant crops of grain, new wine, and olive oil,

and the healthy flocks and herds.

Their life will be like a watered garden,

and all their sorrows will be gone.

The young women will dance for joy,

and the men--old and young--will join in the celebration.

I will turn their mourning into joy.

I will comfort them and exchange their sorrow for rejoicing.

The priests will enjoy abundance and my people will feast on my good gifts.

I, the Lord, have spoken!

(Jeremiah 31:11-14)