I just completed my last day of the school year for the preschool where I work. I am exhausted, my back hurts, my make-up is smudged, my hair looks like I’ve been standing on my head all day, I have paint on my fingers and shirt, and I have a boo-boo – sorry, I mean I have a scrape – on my elbow. After being in the trenches for five hours today, I joyously display my highest award to date: a Bandaid in camo print. My choices were either Paw Patrol or the camo, but the last Paw Patrol Bandaid was snatched up by a far more deserving soldier in my care.

Before I ever started working in a preschool, I never gave much thought to exactly what was involved in a preschool curriculum. I never attended preschool as a child, but I remember recognizing colors and learning to count in kindergarten, and then learning reading and simple arithmetic in the first grade.

Well, not anymore! Re-adjust all of those lessons to two years sooner, and you now have the basic preschool curriculum. Add to that a science study, music, art, drama, and chapel. Having never worked in a preschool until this year, I was wondering if four and five year olds would be able to learn all of this information at such a young age. It seems that I had forgotten my own teaching axiom: The best way to get someone to do well is to let them know how well they’re doing.

Teaching in a preschool is like plunging into a cross-section of every personality and culture of society. We have our quiet, laid back ones, our aggressive ones, our bilingual ones, our grumpy/argumentative ones, our enthusiastic and self-motivating ones. We also have artistic and sensitive ones, and those who couldn’t care less about coloring within the lines. However, they are all exactly alike in their desire to be loved, accepted, cherished, and to have a purpose. Yes, even very young children don’t want to participate if they think that their contribution has no significance. That’s why they yell out their answer to a question and then get angry when someone else tries to answer it before they do. They want to get the credit and attention before their classmate does. I’m sure we all know an adult who behaves the same way! Oh wait, we all behave that way. No matter our age, we all crave significance and love… and we want to have a voice.  

Our job as teachers is to help these little ones find that significance and voice before they look in the wrong places. I wonder — what age do we hit when we begin thinking that our significance must be earned? Most children are aware of how important they are within their families, so when they are young, they seem to laugh, speak up, say whatever is on their minds without the slightest hesitation. They just say it without being even slightly aware of discretion or rudeness! They interrupt, because how could anything they have to say not be a priority?

Then we all reach “that age” at some point. We think, “Oh, I could never say that out loud in front of all these people; I’ll be laughed at…or dismissed!” When did that happen? Who or what taught us that? Or, who did not encourage us that our opinion mattered? We want to teach all of the children manners, kindness, and the immense value of friendship. It’s also crucial that they know that their thoughts and their presence is so important to us.

The most triumphant feeling at the end of the school year comes from hearing the groans of disappointment when the kids are told, “No, I won’t be seeing you next week – this was the last day of school!”

Working with children is hard. It’s physically exhausting, emotionally exhilarating, wildly joyful, sometimes heartbreaking, and always an honor. I will happily display my boo-boo –oops, sorry, I did it again (now a habit) – my camo Bandaid with pride. The scrape may be superficial and temporary, but it’s a reminder of a permanent and deep change of perspective and influence. It’s a medal of honor.

Dance on.

            One of the more difficult issues to resolve when working with young children is the dilemma of winning and losing at a game. The skills of the game are actually secondary at this point; the goal is emotional growth through learning humility, sportsmanship, winning, and basically learning to not throw a tantrum when you lose. Most of the kids in the preschool class where I work want to stop playing when they’re losing and the winner feels it’s appropriate to gloat – all of them except one little girl. The first time she lost she giggled and was genuinely happy for the little boy who won. Then she lost again and giggled a bit louder. She ended up losing every time, but with each attempt she laughed louder and louder until she was shrieking with glee. She thought it was hilarious that she couldn’t win at this game! I had more fun watching her lose than teaching her how to play! I don’t know what secret she has mastered in her four short years of life, but this sweet little thing really knows how to love every minute of every day. She finally did win a game and was certainly very happy and proud of herself, but every time her opponent won she would yell out his victory and cheer. This little girl not only enjoys the whole experience of working towards a goal, but she is learning the value of every experience. She’s not even aware yet of her own wisdom, but she will reap the benefits endlessly as she grows.

When and how did we learn that we must win at all costs? Why is winning at everything the only thing that makes the effort worth the time? I understand contests, competitions, situations that require a declared winner, but to see a little girl consistently rejoicing in someone else’s victory and laughing at her own mistakes without self-condemnation or remorse shows that one-upping each other does not contribute to learning nor developing a healthy attitude. This little girl happens to be very smart, and she is well aware of the concept of winning or losing. However, I think that for her, losing a game is simply part of the experience she gets to have with her friends and teachers who love her. She accepts everything that happens to her as part of this fun journey she’s on. She tries her best at everything, she loves her friends, including the ones who sometimes make her angry, and in her free time she draws pictures of hearts and rainbows for everyone, including the ones who won the games that she’s lost. 

It’s a shame that we tend to become jaded and often cynical as we grow up. So many of us are taught to “do unto others before they do unto you.” We need to be first in line, first to shout an answer, first to be the one to pass on information…such a “me first” mentality. Who are we trying to impress? Is it ourselves?

What a wonderful lesson for all of us to learn in school! We all need a teacher who is four years old with an infectious giggle. This little girl already knows the lesson – she lives the lesson. With every giggle, every new picture she draws for the teachers, every interesting weed she presents proudly as a gift, she is honoring God by demonstrating her awe and wonder at every element of creation. She is already unknowingly becoming the teacher with her innocent appreciation of her world and all the people around her.

So, I think I’ve figured out one of the most important goals in the classroom at ANY age: to learn how to keep the students’ perpetual awe intact and to keep them giggling louder every time they lose at Alphabet Bingo.

And to keep them dancing on.

Have you ever heard that expression, “Be careful how you act on your way up the mountain of your life, because you will run into the same people on the way down,”?

            We are always to be kind and respectful to everyone, whether on the way up the mountain or the way down. However, the people and experiences we encounter on the other side are not necessarily the same as what we had on the way up. The other side can hold an entirely different story; even the timing of the sunshine and shadows is different!

            As I crossed the pinnacle of this particular mountain I have been climbing, I assumed the journey would have been rewarded with an easy descent – at least easier than the climb. Not so. The sun can appear much later, the shadows are just as dark, the rocks are certainly appearing in places that catch me off guard. BUT…the shadows aren’t darker than anything I’ve seen before, the rocks aren’t harder or sharper, but the sun does seems brighter, because it’s so much more appreciated. 

The other side of the mountain complements the first side. It’s just as significant and rugged, otherwise the mountain wouldn’t remain standing. Either would we. Too sharp and too smooth of a drop, and most of the mountain would slide off into an avalanche. So what is the point of making it to the top if it’s still just as hard coming back down?

             From the top of the mountain we have a view that helps explain much of what we experience in the valleys. From the top we can see what priorities really matter. We can see why people take the different pathways in order to get where they want to go. We learn to navigate the valleys a bit better when we can see how the different roads connect with each other. We can see which of our own roads rose higher as we climbed and why some were smoother than others. And we learn why we ran into road blocks so we can correct them next time.

            Most importantly, that climb up developed in us a strength to push and climb higher. Our stamina is now increased, plus our experience has taught us how to encourage and motivate those who are in the valleys. unless someone has actually climbed a mountain, they can they maybe tell you what they have read, but they can’t even come close to helping you climb. The opinions, judgements, and proclamations of those who have never climbed your mountain don’t matter. If the experience is not in their heart, the knowledge is not in their brain.

            Seeing the other side of the mountain is reliving individual victories, not repeating past struggles. With each crack and crevice you encounter you can say, “Oh yeah, I got through that one!” With each rock, you will remember, “I climbed over bigger ones than that!” The other side of the mountain may be much the same, but the person on this side is now very different.

And you will always be able to dance on.

            I saw an adorable video. A little girl was celebrating her seventh birthday at a local gymnastics gym. She was hanging from a very high bar that was travelling across the room over a foam pit. The video was in slow motion, so I could see her little face getting a bigger and bigger smile as she anticipated that drop into the huge pile of foam rubber chunks –and drop she did! I can’t believe that tiny little thing had the guts to hang by her hands unassisted and unharnessed all the way across that huge room! Well, maybe I can believe it; she knew that no one who loved her would let her do it if it was unsafe, and falling into the bouncy foam pit was the fun finalé for her!

            When I was about twelve years old, my friends and I would crawl under the chain link fence around the local high school’s track. Then we would run and hurl ourselves into the air in flips and land in the foam pit under the pole vault. We were totally unafraid and unabashedly daring, because we knew that no matter what, we would have a soft landing. If someone asked me to flip myself through the air and land safely on my feet, I wouldn’t have known where to begin! But there was something about that super soft landing that made me feel as if I could fly.

            That tells me that we’re not afraid of flying…we’re afraid of falling hard. Imagine how high we could go if we had no reservations or fear of falling. It’s not the lack of ability that holds so many of us down. It’s the fear that we don’t have a soft place to land in case we don’t make it.

            We always have a safe place to land. I didn’t say soft…some early attempts can land pretty hard. I said safe. If it’s something we’re passionate about, it’s amazing how hard we can fall and still want to try again and again. Soft landings simply mean there’s no resistance. Soft landings don’t increase strength, nor prove the strength of your passion. But safe – safe means we are still able to try again if we choose to and get stronger along the way. It means we’re still alive. Eventually, soft landings get boring. They give way to passions that may be riskier but motivate us to bigger and better accomplishments. Our passions raise our bar of what “safe” is. For me, I used to think that if I could still schlep my way across the stage after falling or getting injured, I was safe. Dancing was my passion, so I set my bar for “safe” very high. Maybe it wasn’t always the wisest assessment, but it was my passion, and it worked for me.  In hindsight, I do not advocate doing this, but it proves my point. We will put up with a lot more if our true passion is motivating us.

            Let’s go back to the little girl. When she finally let go of the bar, she fell with as much glee and satisfaction as if she had done a double flip and stuck the landing in an Olympic competition. The falling was just a part of the process, a big part of the experience, and definitely part of the motivation to do it again! I only saw that one attempt on the video, but I am positive she did it over and over again!

            When we have a passion to use a gift that God has endowed to us, He is a part of that motivation to try again. He is the foam pit that bounces us up to the surface. We may not always be smiling like an adorable seven-year-old child as we make yet another attempt, but with every honest effort and knowledge of Who is catching us, we get another “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

            Until we are either called home or called to change things up, every attempt can be made unafraid, because we always have a foam pit to break our fall. 

            Dance on.

            I have a lovely photograph of two dear friends standing in front of an expansive mountain scene. My smiling friends are the subjects of the picture, but I can’t help focusing on the gorgeous, snow covered mountain and all the scenery leading up to it. The ground my friends are standing on is green with some rocks here and there adding interest. As my eyes follow the path to the mountain, the ground becomes rockier as the green begins to be replaced. Eventually, the ground gives way to this immense mountain that is an unforgiving and dangerous climb almost straight up until the snow covered, sunny peak glows in the glorious reflection of the sun.

The rocks and mountain are almost indescribable in their unique creation and beauty, but what really catches my attention are the shadows. The small rocks cast little to no shadows at all. Those smaller rocks may be a bit difficult to walk on, but if you’re careful and keep watch, they’re no problem. However, the closer to the mountain that I look, the shadows of the larger rocks increase in size, covering more ground, until the land closest to the mountain is completely covered by its shadow.

As we all start the trek on our path of life, all the rocks we see along the way are pretty much just decoration. They’re not in the way, our path is clear, and we can expect a pretty smooth road. As we get older and find our individual and various ways, we encounter bigger rocks – now we have to be watchful and careful. It becomes somewhat difficult navigating the bigger rocks. The shadows they cast are a bit daunting, but we learn how to push our way over them, and our climbing skills are being strengthened. 

Eventually, we find ourselves in the land of the giants. The shadows of those huge mountains are darker, and they cover so much more territory. Now we have a decision to make. Many people will turn back in favor of the easier, greener, and safer land. Some of us prefer to stay where we are. We’ve made it this far, it was a good try, and “I really didn’t want to go there anyway.”

But, some of us do want to go there. I still want to. But that mountain is way too high, there’s absolutely nowhere to get a foothold, and that SHADOW! Well, that’s enough. I can’t do it, and I seem to have found myself alone anyway. Obviously, my desire was just a dream, and after I catch my breath, I’ll start heading back.

Interestingly, as I sit a while in the shadow at the base of the mountain, my eyes get accustomed to the dark, and I believe I see a tiny, tiny foothold at the base of the mountain. With some stretching, I think I might be able to reach it. So, I begin. As I put my foot on that first little ledge, I see a little more clearly, just in time to see another place to step. Now, instead of avoiding the smaller rocks as I did before, I can use them to get higher! I’m actually glad I’m alone; there’s no one I have to see ahead of me, which would make me feel inadequate in my efforts. There’s no one behind me to convince me to hang back and let my dream slip away into safe predictability and false security. It’s just me and God, climbing together and chatting as we go. With no one ahead of me, my view is clear and I can see the top. With no one blocking the view behind me, I can see proof of how far I’ve come. It’s a shame we often have to go through trauma before we discover where and on Whom we truly stand. This mountain isn’t going anywhere, and I am going to go up and out of the shadow and into the sun.

I have never heard of anyone who has reached the top of a mountain and thought, “Darn! I wish I hadn’t done that!” Nope, never. As a matter of fact, they have all been giddy with the adrenaline rush of achievement and the beauty of what they saw– not just the view, but what they saw in themselves. And they have developed the strength to climb another mountain.

Shadows are now nothing. Rocks are nothing. And being alone is nothing. But reaching the top, despite rocks and shadows, is everything.

Let’s dance on.

I think every single child, from the dawn of family road trips, has whined out the words, “When are we gonna get there?” Likewise, every single parent has desperately wished they could respond triumphantly, “We’re here!”

I was an extremely impatient child, so I asked that question every thirty minutes from the moment our car left the house. My mother’s usual response was a very weary “We’ll get there when we get there.” I hated that answer. It gave me no foreknowledge at all. That meant I couldn’t figure everything out right away, and it also meant I might be in the car for the rest of my life. So, on one trip, my uncle was driving my two sisters and me to New York from Washington, D.C. As expected, I asked him that question, and his response was, “Oh, we’re already here; this is just a very long driveway!”Hmmmmm…

When I was a ballet student, all I thought about was when I was going get there. At every stage of my life, I have impatiently wondered, “When am I going to get there…am I ever going to get there?” Whether it was becoming a professional dancer, starting a family, owning and running a ballet studio, having a ballet company, writing books…all of it. I am still constantly wondering when I’m going to get there.

So, now I have to ask myself: Am I really wondering when I’m going to get there, or am I actually wondering where “there” is?

 Are we meant to arrive and completely retire in our lives? A very good friend of mine told me that we don’t retire; we refire. I love that. Our purposes and passions just branch off. I think we’re actually meant to be on a very long driveway for as long as we live. A driveway leads to a final destination. It can become cluttered with leaves, fallen branches, bumps, cracks, brambles, but they don’t change the final destination; they’re just the things we experience as we approach. We may be coming from different roads, but we always need to end up in the driveway before we actually arrive home. When I’ve had a really hard day and pull into my own driveway, I think to myself, “There it is; I’m home!” I know I belong there, and I can relax. Having the vision of my home allows me to pull all the way into the garage with confidence.

My car once ran out of gas two blocks before I reached my house (true story). Although my husband was not happy, he didn’t leave me there. He pushed the car while I steered, and we coasted up to the door. God will not lead me up to the wrong house or where I don’t belong, and He won’t leave me just short of where I need to be. If I run out of fuel, He will be the push I need, and He even gives me the freedom to steer. I do need to practice wisdom and watch out for the warning lights when my tank is getting low, but there is a driveway that leads to the front door of my home.

When the road we’re on seems endless and fogged in, we must remember that it’s still leading to where we belong. That may sound too simple, or naïve, or too optimistic, but it’s the truth. Creating something complex out of the simple truth can only be self-destructive, and will get us completely off the path where we are meant to be.

So, when are we gonna get there? Keep checking your fuel tank, follow your signs, and you will eventually see the vision where the driveway is leading. You’ll get there when you get there, you will continue your purpose, and you will know you are finally home.

Dance on.

I think all of us have a desire to know we’re significant and to have a true purpose. Many of us want to be noticed by someone, by anyone.

            Right now, with so many lives on hold and jobs that have been lost, it seems that people are floating around aimlessly in deep water, not knowing where the surface is or if they will ever reach it. Having someone call your name and look for you would be a feeling or sense of belonging that many have not had for a long time.

            I have been working in a delightful preschool with amazing little beings. There is one little boy in my class who does not like playing alone — ever. He avoids it at all costs. He’s great at sharing his feelings, and he tends to drum up enough of his own noise to the point where one would swear he’s talking to an entire mob of children. He needs to be encouraged occasionally to concentrate on his own work alone and not to try to recruit other people.

            There’s another little boy who is very happy doing puzzles and playing completely alone during free time…actually he would prefer to do all of his group school work alone. He has to be reminded to work with his group and contribute his imagination to a team. He’s not lonely at all; he’s just very content. He gets so deeply involved in his quiet alone time that he doesn’t hear his name being called the first several times. Our first little boy gets so involved with creating his own crowd at an exuberant noise level that his name needs to be called many times before he’s aware that someone else is making some noise too! Neither child is deliberately ignoring the teacher. They are both submerged in a world they have created for themselves. That’s how they are comfortable with a huge world that they’ve only known for four or five years; they have learned to self-soothe.

            We do that. Well, I know I do that. I’m not an adorable, innocent preschooler, but I do create my own world where I am significant and determined to feel needed. On a basic level, that’s not bad, but that does limit the options of truly making a difference in the world of reality. Social media has made us count the number of “likes” on our posts to determine our importance and significance. TV tells us exactly how to be socially acceptable and politically correct in our caring. Of course we create our own worlds!

            I often fail to “hear my name being called” when I’m completely involved in my own comfortable and familiar world. By that, I mean that I, or we, become deaf and blind to change. God can place open doors right in front of us, but we will turn away and go backwards into the land of familiarity. That land has the voices we recognize and the activities we recognize. And we can never hear anyone telling us anything different.

            In truth, we don’t need to hear anything loudly, but we need to hear clearly. In the Bible, Elijah stood on a mountain, and he saw that God was not in the violent wind, or in an earthquake, or even in a huge fire. But then there was a gentle whisper – and there God was.

            Whispers are often the right voice we need at the right time if we decide to listen. I whispered to my babies when they were first born. My husband would whisper to me if I overslept and needed to get up. We whisper precious and important secrets that we want kept safe. Imagine being screamed at in all of those situations! God whispers to us when all we can do is hysterically run around carrying out our own agenda of busy. Being busy is necessary, but it has its place. Let’s not forget to take the time to assess our busyness. See if our name is being called gently to switch gears or to strengthen our current path. Either way, we can

Dance on.

            I have a very frustrating issue to deal with right now; it involves one of my books, the first one I ever wrote. The first version of that book is much shorter than the subsequent edition. I had entrusted it to a publishing company which turned out to be a scam. Out of inexperience and naivité, I fell for all the compliments and flattery, and I was snagged. When it became clear that this company was not what it was supposed to be, I moved on to someone else. Eight years later I rewrote it, expanded it, and added “second revised edition” to the cover. Here’s the frustrating part: That original version, shorter and filled with typos and bad editing by the scam company, is still for sale on Amazon. I have been told a comprehensive list of things I should have done, or should not have done, or things I should have done differently. That’s fine for the future, but for now, it doesn’t help. I was told to call one company to demand my rights – literally, my copyrights. Then I should call another company and file a case against the scam company, which happens to no longer be in business with the same owner, because he was arrested. I was told to fight, fight, fight for what is mine, mine, mine. I realize I have a legitimate legal issue, and other people should not be able to profit from what’s not theirs. 

However, perhaps there’s another issue here. How much does this issue really matter, and how much is my ego? I understand rightful ownership and building a personal brand and reputation. But if no one is really making a profit off of that old book (it’s listed at over $900 for a one-hundred-page paperback book?!?!), and my current, legitimate edition with my name on it is offered (almost three hundred pages for $16.99), why is it creating in me so much anxiety and anger? Yeah, I know, it’s just not fair. But will it really matter a year from now? Five years from now? How many things that are “so unfair” can I desperately hold on to or feverishly track down before my life becomes an unending road of anger and resentment?

 Chasing down my anger takes so much time away from pursuing things that will actually define who I am. Do any of us want to be defined by our anger? Most people would say no to that question, but our passions and how we spend our time do end up defining us. We need to decide which issues we shouldgrab onto with all our might, and which ones are not going to help us grow. Fighting to maintain our beliefs, or to help others, or to defend those who can’t defend themselves, or to achieve a goal, or realize a dream – those are among the many wonderful reasons to put your head down and charge forward.

Constant anger is so deceptive. It’s like a snowball rolling down a mountain – not only does it pick up speed and force as it rolls down, but it also picks up debris that makes it grow. Anger convinces us to continue picking up more extra junk as it grows; it tricks us into thinking that all the extra junk has something to do with the original issue. Then, when we hit the bottom, like a snow boulder hitting a tree, everything splatters onto everyone and everything, creating irreparable damage.

So, back to the book…who cares anymore? I have moved on and written many other books since then.  Whoever is still keeping that old version of my book on Amazon is actually keeping my name in circulation, which can only help in bringing attention to my other books.

 2 Timothy 2:23 says “Have nothing to do with foolish, ignorant controversies; you know that they breed quarrels.” 

Who has time for that? No one should have their climb up the mountain sabotaged by an angry snowball rolling down on them. 

            So, I have a choice. We get so few of those in life; I’m going to grab this one. I can decide to let go of this meaningless hiccup and dance on, or I can choose to get stuck in the anger/ego. I could get caught up in the snowball rolling down the hill, collecting more junk as I go, but I think I’m going to

            Dance on.

This autumn I began a new passion. For all you fellow “Trekkies,” you might say I am “boldly going where no man has gone before.” I am working with young children in a preschool, and it does not involve dance at all. It’s actually quite a departure from what I have done my entire life. It had become second nature for me to teach children and adults how to train for ballet, how to incorporate drama into their dancing, how they should point their feet, how they should represent their art to an audience, how to communicate to an audience through their art – all of that has been my focus for decades. I was consumed with what I should teach others, how to impart that information, and how to use my experiences to educate the next generation of dancers and teachers. But now, these tiny four and five-year-old children are teaching me lessons that are far more profound and valuable, such as:

*Everything is manageable when you can do it next to your best friend

*Having rules and boundaries keep us safe

*We need to stop and help someone who has fallen down and is crying before moving on with the rest of our friends

*It really is more fun sometimes to just play the game and laugh rather than keep score to see who won.

*It’s very important to finish our work before going out to play…most of the time

And the most important one:

*It’s nice sitting next to someone you like, even when you’re not going to talk.

Last week, the class was sitting in a circle getting ready to hear a story. I like to sit in different places each day to help with different children. We have one little boy in class who always loves to play “Shark!” outside or put me in “lava jail”. During class time he consistently, quietly, and conscientiously gets his work done, and although I’m sure he has his moments at home, he’s not particularly emotional at school. On this one day, I sat down next to him, and he leaned over to me and whispered, “I like it when you sit next to me.” Then he showed me his dinosaur socks, and turned his attention to the story. He didn’t say another word the whole time. He just needed reassurance that he wasn’t alone, and I now know that I have a new little friend. Win Win.

We were not created to be comfortable existing alone. The Bible says, “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you” – James 4:8. It doesn’t mean we can’t be comfortable living alone; however, we can’t exist alone. It means that in order to relate to each other, we must lean in and instigate contact. God says that all we need to do to be closer to Him is to take a step in His direction. But for some reason, with each other we put up walls, we set expectations, we make comparisons, we set rules, we practically audition people before we allow them to enter our bubble. All of those self-imposed conditions will hardly foster comfort and trust in each other, because we will always fail at something and eventually disappoint each other. It’s wonderful to know that God expects nothing from us other than our desire to get close, but we think we’re better at controlling who we know. Actually, that doesn’t seem to be working very well. Some might say that it’s…gulp…discrimination.

I love thinking about this little boy in my class who simply said, “I like it when you sit near me.” He didn’t check off a list of acceptable attributes or try to audition my suitability. He just liked being near. Oh, and he liked showing me his dinosaur socks. He liked being near, and he hoped I’d like his socks.

Dance on.

I had an exhausting few days this week. For my family room and kitchen, I made all new curtains, new pillows, and  I repurposed or discarded items that I was hanging on to. While I kept the “me” in my house, there is a new focus and style…at least a new look. I came downstairs the next morning while the sun was struggling to squeeze up, and an entirely new atmosphere and light had settled within the room. I hadn’t even turned the lights on yet, but I felt so different…a good different.

After my husband passed away, I began a frenzied cycle of creating new things – knitting blankets, making pillows, designing and making costumes, sewing new curtains, working on embroidery projects – I guess I was trying to create an atmosphere that was brand new but still exactly the same. I wanted new things that still had old memories, or to keep old things and still attach new memories. I began a very dangerous habit: Amazon now has my credit card info. Excuse me, but I do believe I just heard a few chuckles of experience out there.

As more months have come and gone, so has my proclivity to self-soothe (sorry, Amazon). But I still need and want change (inexpensively). So, I moved a chair in my family room. Then I took down some paintings and changed out the curtains that had been cleaned years ago and were still in the closet. It was better but not finished. I finally went down to the basement and the very back of some cabinets, and I pulled out some treasures that had been buried for years. I had saved them “just in case.” After refreshing some things and rearranging others, the whole room looked brand new. I felt renewed. There is a scripture that says “Therefore we do not lose heart, though the outer man is decaying, the inner man is being renewed day by day.” – 1 Corinthians 4:16. We may have the same basic outline, the same “bones”, but treasures that have been buried deep within are finally ready to rise to the surface. That’s not only true for the buried items in my basement, but if we allow them, the buried treasures in our heart and very being come out at the perfect time. The original design remains, but the deep potential that was being prepared can finally come through.

What do we do with that? What have we been preparing and training for? Today. We have been training and preparing for the stresses and problems of the day; not necessarily the pandemic and other global issues, but our own issues. We never really know what’s down the road, so we need to assess “today” frequently. Matthew 6:34 says ”Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” 

So, what are we assessing? How about our sense of expectation? Or flexibility? Rather than allowing complacency or apathy to slowly close their gnarled fingers around us, we can refresh ourselves from within. Nothing is wrong with resting a bit where we land and enjoying the silence; we should. But the concept of rest is meant to be temporary so that we can be renewed for what’s next. I like that. There will always be something next, even in this pandemic and isolation. 

Moving a chair, which is used as a place to rest, is a first step in getting ready for tomorrow. Changing and refreshing a few decorations changes what and how we see the same room. I still feel surprised and somewhat awakened when I see the new light in the room every morning. It makes me look and focus longer. It makes me thankful and able to 

Dance on.