Dancing

It snowed last night. The driveway actually looks a bit treacherous! Jace will definitely do a happy dance when he gets up. He'll probably get bundled, search for the sled in the shed, then drag Darian with him to sled down the hill by the boys' dorm.

And I'll watch them go, heads bent down to ward off the cold, trudging up the hill and out of sight, perfectly content.

Last night Roy pulled the stepper out and did a few steps on it just to get his body moving a bit. And I followed suit. Then Jace came up and saw it there in the middle of the mancave. And he began to dance, using the stepper as his stage,  every limb of his body freely involved in this comical, free-spirited dance, mouth open wide as his whole presence moved with sheer abandon.

Roy and I sat back and watched...and laughed.

Oh to be a child with that carefree spirit, throwing all cares to the wind and just letting go.

When I was a little girl, I had a friend who lived next door that was the same age as me: Cindy. We were inseparable as little girls, playing the hours away. One of our favorite activities was putting a record on (yeah...record) the old stereo that sat in our living room and dancing crazily around in circles. I don't remember anymore who we danced to...the Beatles? Elvis? But I do remember laughing and dancing and throwing all cares away during those few moments of sheer abandon.

And then I grew up.

I don't have the ability to dance. I wish I did. I admire it. Savana can dance like no tomorrow and, given the opportunity, she'd probably be a pole dancer. One of her favorite things is dancing for her dad, pretending that she's stripping. Her dad turns every shade of red, begging her to stop. Savana, this is just not right! And then she giggles and goes about her business. I embarrassed Dad. Job well-done.

One of my friends, Dee, can dance. One of my girls' favorite memories is when she would visit and turn on the music. For Christmas one year she bought them a Karaoke machine and that brought dancing to a whole new level.The three of them would dance and sing at the top of their lungs while sharing the microphone... while I watched from the couch. Sometimes they would beg and plead until finally I would stand up to join them. But I did little more than sway a bit to the music, utterly self-conscious.

And Roy can dance actually. When it's just the two of us, he'll break out in some dance moves. He starts off serious, but then, of course, as I start to laugh, he gets sillier and sillier until we're both laughing, utterly amused. Sometimes he'll try to coerce me to join but my body just doesn't move like that. I don't know how.

Roy grew up dancing, going to clubs, picking up girls. It's part of his heritage. But he let all of that go, of course, when he joined the Adventist church. But one time when we lived in California and taught at the public schools, a friend of his had a dance party at their house. I don't remember the occasion, but I do remember that Roy got out on the dance floor, perfectly at ease, while I stood back completely amazed as I'd never seen him in this element before.

Dancing is just not my thing.

But I do love what it represents: sheer abandon, soaking in the moment while letting everything go.

Not too long ago I was listening to Pandora while getting ready for the day in the bathroom. A song came on and I started to dance as there was nobody there to watch me, nobody to make fun and laugh at my awkwardness.

And finally, I let go. I closed my eyes so that I couldn't see myself in the mirror...and I danced. Once again I was that seven year old little girl, laughing and twirling, blonde hair swaying as I leaped and danced around the living room.

And though I certainly wouldn't win any prizes for form and beauty and grace, I let go: sheer abandon, soaking in the moment.

This year? I'm going to find more of those moments. I'm going to find some time to just let it all go.

This year? I'm going to dance.