An Invitation to Dance

An extraordinary thing just happened.  I didn’t realise it was extraordinary at the time.  It is only now as I open the pages of my journal and start to write that I see in the moment something beyond its immediacy.  I see how it contains a pearl of great beauty – a whisper of God, the lover of my soul.

I know that it’s extraordinary because in fifteen years, it has never before happened.  I have a friend called Mike, who is 20 years old and has Downs Syndrome.  As I’ve done for probably 2 or 3 times a year over the last 15 years, I took him to his Saturday morning dance therapy class.  As usual he went into the classroom with great enthusiasm, and firmly closed the door behind him.  As usual I sat down to wait outside the room, with my book for the next hour.

Some time later, about half way through the lesson, the door burst open and Mike’s grinning little face appeared.  “Lizzy, come in!”  I’ve always wanted to be a fly on the wall during Mike’s lesson and to see what goes on, so seizing my opportunity, I gathered up my stuff and followed him in.  Only to find that I was not to be a spectator, but a participant!  Mike wanted me to dance with him.  Slightly horrified, I looked at the face of Mike’s teacher and saw wry amusement.  I looked back at Mike and saw great excitement and a huge smile.  He jiggled across the dance floor and motioned for me to join him.  You must be joking I thought, full of self-consciousness and aware of my woeful dancing abilities.  But then I looked again at his face.  Full of eager and trusting anticipation at what we were about to do together.

So I took his hand and I danced.  Not for long and not with any particular grace.  But I danced with Mike and he loved it. 

And now several days later, I ponder the moment again.  I stand at the start of a new year, acutely aware that there are challenges before me.  These challenges draw me towards the desire of my heart for all that my life could be about – dreams that I barely dare own.  Yet I am scared.  I fear my own inadequacy, my own inferiority, my own failure.  I want to stay where I’m safe – sitting outside the room, with my book. 

But my Father beckons me to dance.  He extends an invitation to me.  I see that invitation in Mike’s little eager face.  What was it that drew me to step with him on to the dance floor, beyond my self-consciousness to risk feeling stupid and even worse – looking stupid to others?

It was the look on his face.  It was the knowledge that it would give him pleasure.  So it is with my Father. 

This invitation is an extraordinary thing.  It fills me with wonder.  It takes me outside of myself.  The success of my performance begins to matter a little less.  My fear of what others will think if I do badly diminishes.  My self-consciousness takes a step into the background.  It is no longer about me.  It’s about the joy of the dance for the sake of the dance itself and it’s about the look in my Father’s eyes as we experience it together.  It changes everything.