“A Time to Mourn and a Time to Dance”
“There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.”
To say that I miss dancing is an understatement. All I ever wanted to do was dance. It was my escape; my freedom; my way of taking care of my mind and body. I started classes when I was three years old and didn’t stop until I graduated high school. I was never the best dancer, but it wasn’t about being the best. I competed, but it wasn’t just to win. It was my way of expressing my self and worshiping. Even though I was able to stay in dance until I was seventeen, it started changing when I started getting sick in 2010. I remember that year we danced to “My Worst Enemy.” The context of the song wasn’t about your body being your enemy, but to me it was. The lyrics and melody fit what was going on in my life so well. The choreography our teacher gave us was perfect. It was free, and it was a perfect release.A lot of misunderstandings took place at dance. Teammates started to not believe when I was missing because I was sick. Yes, a few times I was out for other reasons, but it got to the point to where it wasn’t my safe place unless I blocked everyone out. I had to constantly remind myself why I loved to dance. I had to remember I was dancing for God, not my teammates. I could only do my best no matter how hard I tried to do more. The energy it took to finish a dance was tremendous. The strength would come and go throughout the day, so sometimes I could still go to dinner even though I couldn’t dance. I understand how that must have looked to them. I forgive them for the hurtful words that were said both to my face and behind my back. They didn’t know, and I didn’t openly share. My illnesses are invisible from the outside. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t be stronger than the sickness that was and is attacking my body. I didn’t know I had a blood disorder that was causing a lot of the trouble. I thought it was the endometriosis or my body still healing from surgeries. I kept fighting. I kept dancing.
I now know that I’ve had my time to dance. It hurts me more than the pain to know that I can’t keep dancing. What I wouldn’t give to be back in the studio or on stage giving it everything. Not worrying about anything except what I was doing in that one moment. I am still able to line dance and partner with Caleb at times, and sometimes that’s enough to quench my thirst to dance for a little while. I know that this isn’t my season to dance. It’s my time to plant new seeds, to heal, and for war with my body. God blessed me with the ability to do dance for fifteen years, so I must be satisfied with that. I am grateful, but it’s hard to let go. I know that it’s my time to give up on physically dancing the way I used to, but it’s my time to search for other ways to dance for the Lord. I will find a new way to dance for God. Right now is a time to be still and listen for God to show my life’s new choreography. I must not get impatient with Him. He will show me my new steps, and one day it will be my time to dance again. I know that in heaven I will be able to dance more freely for the Lord than I ever have. It won’t hurt. It won’t make me weak. It will please God, and I will be complete. Until then, I will follow His new choreography and remind myself that there is a time for everything.
"Pull up, shoulders back, squeeze your butt, lift your chin, support your elbows, relax your hands. Breathe. You got this."
-Ms. Hunter
I will forever be grateful for all of my incredible teachers. They taught me more than dance. I will always hold a special place in my heart for them. Thank you.
To my former students: You are such beautiful dancers and so talented. I love you, and you have taught me so much. Thank you for being my favorite little ballerinas.
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