We sat down to watch another fashion show… like the million others I’d seen before- already decided I wasn’t overly impressed. The show hadn’t even started.
The host graced the stage and announced we were in for a treat. Yah right, I mocked silently.
The lights dimmed. The music started and from a silken beam she cascaded from the sky.
Shocked, I sat up. Something inside me perked.
With what appeared as effortless grace, she conquored gravity and frolicked from great heights.
The more she spun, the faster my heart raced. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
I was transfixed. But it was more than simply her movement.. it was the feeling, the passion, the joy that emanated from her.
I could almost taste it.
Why? I knew it well.
What my mind had forgotten, my heart knew well; like marrow of my bones and blood through my vines.
I remember the surge I felt when I graced the stage. To perform was freedom unleashed. There was no where else I felt freer to be me…
Free from pain. Free from struggle….
From comparison, expectation and others’ “rules.”
I could be me fully alive, uncaged. No need to tame myself or to calm down. I could throw every fibre of my being into the movement.
No matter my mood, lifes circumstances or it’s pressures, to dance washed everything away. It was my comfort, my strength, my healer and my truest joy.
I could never put my finger on it, but I know now that what I felt was God’s delight.
As one performance led into another, something inside of me came to life; something I knew had lay dormant for nearly 10 years.
My mind flashed to the women I’d just met, who spoke over me last spring; the one who told me I was still a dancer and that God wanted me to dance again.
I laughed. My pride still bruised from my immature exit from the dance world.
I said nothing out loud then, but in my heart, vowed again I’d never return. I couldn’t face my past. My old life. The old me.
I’m different now. That part of me is dead.
But as the music raged on and the performance came to climax, I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
“Go.” I felt Him whisper, His invisible arms embracing me like the welcomed chill of a summers wind.
While I could deny it all I want; allow the fear to suffocate his voice, the light of truth shone in that moment.
There is a part of me that was made to dance. He put it in me. He made me with purpose. He wants me to use it for His glory…. if only for me to feel his delight. In me. Through me.
Cause that’s the funny thing with our pasts. We can run from it all we want. We can change. We can evolve. We can find new purpose and identity.
But that which He desired for good, will never truly disappear.
No matter how painful or uncomfortable it may be, God wants us to go back and look our pasts straight in the face.
To take what Satan meant for evil and use it for good- for His Glory.
He wants to make beauty from our ashes.
But first we’ll have to stop running, turn right around and walk, one foot in front of the other, back on stage.
In case you’re wondering, I’ve begun to dance again. While my nerves still hold me captive, my muscles remember beautifully. It’ll be a slow road, but I’m trusting His purposes in asking me to move again. I know there’s healing to be had and joy to be remembered.