I knew I sat on the edge of a pivotal choice –
to live or begin to die.
I was tired of mourning. The exhaustion of grief had consumed all that I had to give. I had sorrowed all that I could sorrow.
It was then that I read the words of Henri Nouwen:
“The steps of dancing are learned in the mourning”
I could see myself then. Nestled into the darkness, folded in on myself, hair hanging in front of my face as though darkness was not enough to get lost in.
And then I saw His hand reaching into my inky depths.
It was turned up and open. A silent invitation.
He stood at the edge of the dance floor, just within the boundary of the spotlight, extending his hand to me ~ His invitation to dance.
He is self-assured and waits for me to overcome my reluctance. His light draws me from the darkness as His expectancy grips me. Like a gentleman finding a new and perfect partner he waits. For in this moment, no one else will do. He isn’t searching the crowd for anyone to take His hand. He is waiting for me to take his hand.
Tentatively I reach from the shadows and as my fingertips find his palm they brush over the scar. My tears collect at the rim of my eyelids building up for the cascade.
Yes, He knows how to suffer and yet…he knows how to dance.
I grip his hand and look at my pale skin in the blazing spotlight. Having hid myself from the light for so long I lack luster.
He draws me in…close to him. His other arm wraps around me, aligning me with him.
Cheek to cheek we sway. I feel him smile as he looks over my shoulder.
The music is slow and it’s melody is a blend of the dark and beautiful. My melancholy is enveloped in Him. His pleasure in me, his partner, overpowers the lingering tears and braces my heart. He moves us around the dance floor, held so close I need not worry about the steps or if I know the music to which I dance.
I finally release the sorrow…leaning into Him even more.
I am lost in his love, his strength, his knowledge of the dance….
Is he inviting you to dance today?