the dance.

boy.

girl.

one steps forward.

the other steps back.

again and again.

now together. hand in hand. turn and face each other. now turn away. pull in. jump and trust you'll be caught.

try not to get your toes stepped on.


tonight my cell group girls and i went to the ballet at the benedum downtown. "a celebration of frank sinatra and cole porter" it was called. beautiful. just beautiful. i couldn't help thinking though, as i watched this dance that it resonated with the life i've been living lately outside this ornate looking theatre, out of these dressy clothes.

why is it that this boy meets girl dynamic always has to be such a dance? sometimes it seems beautiful and if the pair of dancers are well suited, it just flows and one can anticipate the other's next move. other times it just appears to be a game and the object is to not get your toes stepped on, fall flat on your face or jump and find out your partner wandered off and forgot to catch. what if you don't want to dance? what if you just want to walk?

i just want to walk. because, well, i've never been a very good dancer. maybe i've just never had the right partner, but i always seem to get my toes stepped on. anyway i've always been a little skiddish getting on the floor in the first place. afraid of letting go i guess.

i'd be more than happy to just walk, with someone walking next to me. he could even hold my hand if he wanted to.

and then. as we walk. God could teach us how to dance.