Not A Random Dance

In the evening when the neighbors gather in their homes to watch The Olympics, when the leftover heat persists, warm and sticky around your ankles, when the weight of the sun dips beyond the horizon and the moon rises to its rightful spot, a song emerges.

Your song. 

A song reflecting on the day’s roller coaster of events and emotions. Shamers, unmet longings, the persistent prayers on repeat and words on rerun spoken to our children, yes, all those ups and downs spin into a melody full and rich.

From sunup to sundown, five black lines and four spaces get scribbled in with circles and stems. One cord at a time. One day at a time.

All the moments of feeling inadequate, less than and left out. All the grins, high-fives and proud mama moments. They make up all the notes of one day; producing one more stanza in the story of our song.

Your life song. 

Swiftly rising and slowing at the right designated stanza, the melody floats on. The beat quickens and wanes at preciously the right measure even when we wish it was omitted from us, scratched out and erased. Forgotten.

All the displeasing yuck sounds matter as a chance to awaken our souls to a sweeter song.

All our past mistakes and failures count as a stepping stone, a chance, a working towards sanctification. They are a part of us not to define but to press us into. Into the arms and shoulders of our dance partner. Jesus. He’s holding us up, proud to be there, with us, as we swing – in tight and then – step, step – release. A dance. In your song.

Pre-written notes in black and white, keep time to the conductors perfectly planned musical production; your day’s dance. Orchestrated by our creator. Producing a life of music most beautiful. Yes, yuck included. He uses it all.

It’s your unique song.

It’s different, your song from mine. Beautiful and raw, all perfected to being you. Your songs each day tally and create mysterious, moving music.

Your unique melody floats, inviting others to something more. I hear it. I see your dance. I watch you grasp the shoulder of your partner. Your partner who holds life. Who gives life and who sings life. He softly and tenderly sings to all who can hear. A song of invitation to dance with meaning clasped tight with the one who wrote each of our memorizing and mistake ridden and mightly, meaningful music.
As it turns out, life is not random chance but merely, instead, a divine dance.

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