“Trial by Fire”…How many people truly understand the meaning of that phrase? If you do understand it, how many of us understand the benefits of it?

When I was first married, I enrolled in a ceramics class, just for the fun of learning something new. The first thing I learned was how difficult it was and how many steps were required to create even a small bowl that was strong enough to survive the process.

First, a lump of clay has to be thrown as forcefully as possible and many times onto a table to make it malleable. Then it must be aggressively kneaded over and over to squeeze out air bubbles and impurities and make it even more malleable. The idea is to make it “obey” the potter so that the creation turns out exactly as planned. Once the clay is free from impurities and air bubbles, the potter places the lump in the exact center of the flat wheel, and the creation processes begins.

            Using some of the clay mixed with water, called “slip,” the potter begins to hollow out the lump and pull the sides up as the wheel spins. If the clay gets the slightest bit off center, it collapses on the wheel, and a misshapen blob flails around as the potter slows the wheel down and starts over, kneading the clay again. Once the bowl appears to be finished, a wire is used to scrape the bowl off of the wheel and dry out a bit until it’s ready for the oven. At this point, it’s still fragile and can’t be used at all. 

 Now come the tricky part – the oven, or kiln. This special oven is slowly heated up to almost 2,000 degrees F. If it heats up too fast, the bowl will explode. If there’s too much water or impurities left in the clay, it will not only explode, but will shatter any other bowls or pieces that are around it. Most of us in the class lost one or two pieces at some point during the course because the heat revealed the weaknesses that were left in the clay.

After the appropriate baking time, the oven slowly begins to cool. As with the heating up, if the temperature change is too rapid, the clay bowl will explode.

But wait, there’s more. The pieces are now very hard, but not done yet. The pieces still have to be dipped in a glaze for color and sealant, then back into the oven they go for another slow baking process and cooling process. By the way, if one of the pieces is touching another in the hot oven, they fuse together permanently, and the impurities of one are linked with the impurities of the other forever. Once the piece is finally cooled, it is now done. 

So, what does a clay bowl have to do with us?

By now, you may have noticed the similarities in our development and that of a clay bowl. All of us feel thrown on a table at some point and kneaded and kneaded to squeeze out the impurities. Some of us may require more kneading than others, but eventually we are ready for the wheel, and our lives begin to take shape. If we become off-center, we will flail around and have to be kneaded again in order to become what we are meant to be. Our Master Potter has an idea and a plan on how we are to be used, and He will apply the necessary pressure needed to get us where we need to be. Being thrown, falling off the center, being squeezed, and then kneaded again hurts. It’s exhausting and seems unnecessary to us. But it is making us ready to withstand the heat of the oven.

The oven is the true test of what we’re made of. Right now, at this time in history, we are all in the oven. We have made it through the throwing and kneading process, otherwise we wouldn’t be in the oven. But we ARE here now, and the door is locked until we are ready to be taken out. Dancers are feeling the heat because they can’t work or even rehearse, performers can’t be in theaters, musicians can’t play live concerts, so many people are out of work. Singers can’t practice because they can’t sing with masks on, all medical workers are nervous about contracting the illness, restaurants, stores, most businesses, ALL are feeling the extreme heat, and we want to explode. 

Here’s the good news: Unlike lumps of clay, we have a choice. We don’t have a choice of being in the oven, but we DO have a choice as to how to respond to the heat. Our Master Potter has kneaded us and gotten us ready, and His desire is that we will be strong and ready to work and serve. His plan is for all of us in the fire is to get stronger and stronger, never to fall apart. But we still have the choice.

So how do you want to emerge from the oven? Will you be strong, valuable, ready to fulfill your purpose? Or do you prefer to explode under pressure and splatter anger and damaging words on everyone around you? Either way, people are going to be affected by our own experience in the oven. We can shatter the lives of those around us, or we can serve each other through our strength. We can inspire through our kindness. It is our trial by fire.

The heat is on – Dance on.

Using our talents and gifts to sow seeds of hope, encouragement, and kindness in the fields around us can sound so vague and almost esoteric. The whole concept can conjure up images of summer evening at camp,  young people surrounding a campfire and singing We are the World while holding hands and swaying to the music. It’s a lovely feeling (and so are the toasted marshmallows), but it’s basically a “surface sentiment.” It’s temporary, there are no roots, therefore no growth. There’s no bloom. There’s no fruit. There’s no lasting strength to weather harsh storms or trampling.

I truly believe that every gift or talent we possess is for a specific purpose. That purpose is not just to make ourselves happy, nor is it to build our ego. If the use of our gift dies when we do, then the gift was useless. Our gifts were meant to be fluid and to spill over into the next generation – to leave a legacy. Our gifts are meant to affect others, to express what we feel, to teach, to influence, to bring joy, to make people think. Most importantly, our gifts are meant to honor God.

How do we do that? Many people think they don’t have any talents. That’s not true. Everyone has a special gift. It may not be in music or dance, or a visual art, or writing, but the gifts are as varied and unique as the people who have them. 

Compassion is a gift. Taking someone into your home to build them up and nurturing them is using that gift. It gives them the strength, desire, and motivation to use their own gift, and perhaps do the same for someone else.

  Patience is a gift we’re using when we can wait with hope while helping someone who is struggling to climb back up, then seeing them fall again, and helping to pull them up again, perhaps a bit higher, and repeat over and over again until they finally reach the top. If they have developed the confidence to achieve because of your long-term, persistent support, that’s using your gift. 

When people know that they can completely relax in your home and always feel welcomed, loved, and appreciated, that’s the gift of hospitality. It’s not about having big parties. When people don’t feel afraid to be themselves without judgement and criticism, that’s also hospitality, and that’s using your gift.

Anything that influences others and brings comfort, joy, and inspiration is a gift. There are so many gifts that we all have; it would take volumes to cite each one and its use. But, your gift is there, and it can be used in ways that you can’t yet imagine.

My grandmother was a professional seamstress in Russia. She escaped from there when she was a relatively young woman, and she used her gift to make a living for herself when she arrived in America. She taught me to sew when I was very little, as well as to crochet and knit (she also taught me how to whistle). Now let’s jump ahead a few decades. I started ballet at 

7 ½ years old, and I’ve learned to use that gift throughout my whole life. When my husband and I started a professional ballet company, I soon had to deal with the issue of costumes. We had a friend help us for a couple of years at first, but then it all fell to me. It was far too expensive to buy costumes, and I wanted to design what actually fit our choreography, so I pulled up the gift that my grandmother had taught me. A lot of my earlier costumes filled up the trash can more than the stage, but the desire was there, and so our costume closet was born.

            A few years ago, a very wonderful woman and friend of mine passed away. Two of her daughters had been ballet students of mine, and they gave me all of the fabric that had been in their mom’s sewing closet. It was clothing fabric, rather than costume fabric, but the knowledge and practice of sewing that my grandmother had taught me was passed down. That gift and the majority of my friend’s fabric allowed me to make clothing for impoverished children in Colombia. If my friend had never had her gift of sewing, she wouldn’t have had all of that fabric to pass to me. If my grandmother hadn’t taught me to sew, I wouldn’t have been able to make all those clothes, which will in turn be passed down to younger kids as they grow.

            It’s sowing seeds of hope through sewing. I had thought that sewing was a rather insignificant skill that no one did anymore, because buying clothes is so much easier…for most people. But God used it as a gift. Although so much of my early sewing did end up in the trash, those mistakes taught me so much more about life. Every single thing that we can do for ourselves can be used as a gift for someone else. Cooking, caregiving, cleaning, ironing… I was bedridden during one of my pregnancies, and a friend came over every week and insisted on doing my ironing for me. She said she loved ironing so much that she deliberately let her clothes stay in the dryer for a long time so that they would need more ironing! She may have been crazy to some, but it was a priceless gift to me. I had two other children and a husband who was at work from 5:30 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. every day. She was the definition of sharing her gifts! 

            Did you know that organization is a gift? Being proficient with a hammer and nails, plumbing, auto repair, computer skills – all things that help those who can’t are gifts. They sow seeds into people who need to have something grow in their lives and in their hearts.

            The underlying gift behind all of the talents is the desire to give back and to reflect the many facets of God, so find the gifts and use them. They’re in there.

Dance on.

Here’s a no-brainer: These are desperate times. The entire world is dealing with an illness with an elusive treatment, businesses are closing, people are out of jobs, entertainment is scarce, and the prolonged isolation and quarantine is taking its toll. Everyone, at first unified and banding together to fight this battle, is now turning against each other. Doubt has morphed into fear, fear has morphed into distrust, and distrust has blossomed into full blown anger. People are so very angry, and all of that anger is being directed at the opposite political party of your choice. So, we are running. We are running away from the reality of danger, from inconvenience, from uncertainty, and largely from fear.

Because of increasing fervor of COVID-19, politics, and the mixing of the two, it is indeed easier to run away – to turn off the news – to not associate with those of differing opinions. Sadly, it’s like pretending that a hot, simmering pot of water on the fire will never really reach a full, splashing, rolling boil. My mother once left a pot of water filled with eggs on the stove to boil. She was planning on making egg salad sandwiches out of the hard-boiled eggs. She got distracted with some chores, and forgot about the eggs. The water churned away at a full boil until it all evaporated with the hot stove still on. We all heard the explosion in the kitchen, and no one could ignore the boiling eggs any longer. My mother flew down the stairs and saw smashed eggs and shattered eggshells splattered all over the ceiling and the walls! It was a horrible mess, but the worst part was the overpowering smell of burned sulphur that wafted through the house for days. We could clean the walls and the ceiling, but there wasn’t anything we could do about the smell. My mother tried covering it up with sprays and burning candles, but that awful smell lingered for days, and it tainted every other aroma she tried to use.   

Running away from issues and assuming that someone else will deal with them causes messier problems with lingering smells that last for a very long time. If you or anyone you know has ever had fire damage, you know that smoky smell can last forever.  When people run away or refuse to communicate with each other until the other person “comes to their senses,” the same problems will continue to “smell” and linger for generations.

Throughout the years of teaching, I occasionally had students who wanted to quit dancing or leave the studio because of various difficulties. Sometimes the problems were personality clashes between students, sometimes it was an unpopular policy, but whatever the reason, the students or their parents would silently let the problems grow to a level that scared them too much to confront the issues, so without a word, they ran away. It was devastating and made me so angry. The funny thing is, people often react by running away before they have somewhere else to go. That’s a cry of frustration with no plan to resolve the problem. Running away may make the harsh reality seem far off, but aimless running just circles back around to the same reality. Now, the problem has grown bigger, the anger is bigger, the hurt is bigger, and finding the resolution is far more daunting. So, the running away continues, and the cycle goes on.

Proverbs 51:1 says, “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” There certainly is a time for strong action, even harsh words, if the truth is being squelched. But harsh words have become the norm, because the soft answer has been ignored. What if we truly believed that there is a solution to our problems when we agree to respect each other? What if a soft answer was not perceived as lack of conviction or weakness, but as a deliberate desire to preserve relationship? And what if different cultures, customs, personalities, and backgrounds really are wonderful opportunities to expand our expectation and definition of unity and love for each other, rather than our feeling threatened and possessive of what and who we think we should be?

Harsh words can be spoken too quickly, drowning out the soft answer of the truth. They are spoken out of passion and extreme emotion, but sometimes with less understanding. But one truth is consistent: Anything or anyone who deliberately creates division and separation does not understand the purpose of our existence. Our purpose is not to prove we are “right;” our purpose is to facilitate the right attitudes, opportunities, relationships, and treatment of each other, and to possess an upright character. Those with an upright character inspire the same in others. That’s the type of contagion we should be seeing – not fear, or anger, not viruses, and not hate. No more running away. Kindness matters, no matter what.

Dance on.

            Learning an art form involves years of repetition. Ballet is based on repetition. Every day, every class, the same exercises are done over and over again. We get corrections from the teacher, we get stronger, more flexible, and more adaptable. We may never really master or perfect any given aspect of technique, but we learn to appreciate its beauty and to respect the purity and integrity of what it’s supposed to be. We want to repeat it again and again – we want to be better.

            When I took piano lessons as a little girl, I did endless sets of scales and practiced my pieces, all because I wanted to be better. When I was working on my handwriting in school, my class practiced each letter over, and over, and OVER! My teacher made me repeat a bit more than some of my classmates, because I would get impatient, start to get sloppy, and no one could read my writing. I didn’t really care about making it look better, but I did have to be understood, and I cared about that.

            Even in the Bible, God repeats many things multiple times. That’s because we’re supposed to remember, and we’re supposed to get better at loving each other. Some of the things that He repeats are warnings, so that we don’t keep making the same mistakes in history. We don’t seem to be getting better at that…yet.

            Listening to repetition, even if unpleasant, was a given while growing up. Our teachers knew that if lessons and stories were repeated often enough, perhaps in a different way, we would eventually learn and remember. However, the longer I’ve been teaching, the more I’ve seen us becoming a “one and done” culture. I’ve had students’ parents complain that their child has already done this level, or taken that class, is now bored, and wants to move on, even if they’re not really ready. Why make someone repeat if it’s boring, or stressful, or If they “know it” already? Learning from our experiences, especially our mistakes, takes time and thought. It takes a plan, and sometimes it takes a re-routing that we’re not always willing to do. Re-routing takes too long, so we often try to do the same thing the same way (which is our way), because “this time will be different.” It won’t be different. It will be the same mistake. Tenacity and perseverance are wonderful things, but they include the humility to listen to wise counsel.  Ignorant stubbornness always ends up in yet another mistake.

            I’m sure most people have heard it said that history repeats itself. When painful events happen over and over again, many people roll their eyes and say (or think), “Oh, here we go again,” and that’s about the end of it.  Someone else will fix it, right? Maybe those same events keep happening because we’re not trying to learn the right lesson. Perhaps we just want to hunker down until it blows over…again. Perhaps we don’t want to do better, because we think we are better?

            I was born in Washington, D.C., and I lived just seven minutes outside the city in a suburb of Maryland. That meant that most rainy weekends and school field trips were spent in the art galleries, museums, and at memorials. The Smithsonian Institute was and still is my favorite, because even just one of the several buildings has enough exhibits to keep someone fascinated and occupied for over a week. We all had our favorite exhibits, and we made sure to see them every visit in addition to the latest acquisitions. Some of the exhibits memorialize horrific events, some celebrate wonderful scientific phenomena, and some are just beautiful to look at. Although varied in their scope, each building and exhibit are unified in its purpose – to make us learn and remember.

            I have many books in my home that I have already read, but I keep them to re-read; I see different tidbits and get another “take-away” every time. So, I get frustrated and a bit sad when someone says, “I don’t need to hear that again,” or “I’ve seen that, so I’ll go get a cup of coffee until it’s over.” Repetition is always worth the time.

            Have you ever been around war buddies? They take comfort in gathering together and recounting their horrific experiences to each other. It helps them bond, process what they’ve been through, and hopefully learn something about themselves. Women share their own “war stories” about childbirth so that new moms-to-be can be aware and warned. 

            If even God knows it’s necessary to repeat warnings, then why are we not willing to listen more than once, but apparently we are willing to repeat mistakes and then wonder why?

            We all should want to do better, be better, learn better, and love better…by listening better.

Dance on.

 

            Whenever I am right in the thick of sewing costumes for upcoming performances, I use heavy brocades, ethereal tulle, sparkly sequins and jewels….so many different fabrics and materials that tell different stories and create images for those who are going to wear them. Although I always try to keep all the clues of creation confined to my sewing room, traces of what I’m working on seem to leave telltale signs all over my house. As I fold clean laundry, I see remnants of tulle that had stuck to my socks even through the washer and dryer. When I turn the lights on in a room, I see errant sparkles popping up through the carpet fibers, or I am having to pick up loose threads that had been snipped off in the refining process – all to make the creations as beautiful and expressive as possible.

            Normally, I am obsessive about keeping my house neat and tidy (it helps lower my stress level!). However, these remnants make me smile, because they leave a pleasant taste in my mouth over a creation completed and progress being made. HOWEVER, and this is a big “however,” sometimes there are other things left behind that are not so pleasant. Sometimes, a pin has fallen, undetected, in the carpet until my foot detects it. Sometimes, a staple from a card of buttons has been swished accidentally onto the floor, and again, my foot detects it long before my eyes can. It makes me nervous to walk around without my shoes on, because I don’t want any unwelcome surprises.

So, my question is this: What remnants do we leave behind? When we as students, dancers, teachers, or “normal” people are creating and relating to other people, do our remnants leave a smile in someone else’s memory, and do we leave those people in a newly created, more refined state? Or do we leave pins and staples lurking underfoot that make others afraid to walk near us unprotected? Unavoidable mistakes occur, and we try to fix them as much as we can, but what is our ratio of fun remnants and memories to painful pins and staples? Are we known for the work and creations that the remnants represent, or are we known for the pins and staples that cause pain and fear?

From the times we are born, our families raise us with various values, priorities, and attitudes. Many of our opinions are formed by how we were influenced as children. Then we grow, we experience life with various people, we become autonomous, and often our opinions and priorities change and adapt to who we become. What remnants have we held on to from our upbringing? What have we decided to throw away? Does the person I have become create division, discord, and hate, or does the remnant of my life make people want to relive the experience and have more? 

No one is so sweet, wonderful, and perfect that everyone agrees with everything they say. It’s true freedom to know that, although one person’s passion is different from someone else’s, we all come from the Supreme artist’s paintbrush and are crucial parts of His painting. Wonderful memories make people relive them with joy as they think about or use what remnant we leave. The memory of the painful pins and staples that harshly jab lasts forever, so we tread very hesitantly forward…or not at all. 

What are your remnants?

Dance on.

            One of the most popular songs in the last twenty years is from the Disney movie, Frozen. Let it Go has been embraced by every age group, demographic, and virtually every country. It’s used in dance recitals, middle school band concerts, professionally orchestrated recordings, figure skating programs, and even baby toys. Not only is it musically an exciting, blood-pumping composition, but everyone relates to the words – everyone except me. 

I have always been an emotion hoarder. I don’t ever want to release people or things, or experiences that I love. I hate it when someone says to me, “Just let it go!” I can’t. I drown in sentimental reminders and mental memorabilia; I don’t want to accept the fact that almost everything comes to an end. Oh, I don’t have layers of junk littering my home, but in my mind and heart, I never want the last performance to end, for the friends to move away, for the students to grow up and leave. I have always been afraid of loss.

            However, I have learned so many things through loss that I would never have learned any other way. Loss is a part of life; it’s a given that we can’t avoid no matter how hard we try. But wisdom is NOT a given. Although more and more experiences rack up the older we get, wisdom is not an automatic result. What we learn and how we use the experience is a choice we make in the midst of our pain. Those choices can develop our wisdom.

            It is easy to allow pain and loss to define how we see ourselves. When a foot surgery first put an end to my performing career, I didn’t know how to identify myself. Friends would introduce me to other people as “the dancer,” and I felt compelled to say, “Well, not anymore.” I felt diminished for what I considered a failure and a loss in my life. I was told that everyone transitions out of dancing eventually; it’s inevitable, especially when a career such as ballet is so brutal to your body. But I thought I could keep going for as long as I wanted. No matter how much pain I was in, I figured that if I could still schlepp myself across a stage, then I was fine. But I was wrong.

            When my husband passed away, there was absolutely no way that I could bring myself to let go. Do you remember the scene in the movie “Titanic” after the ship sank, and Rose is on the broken wooden door, floating in the black, freezing water? Jack, the love of her life, is in the water, trying to stay afloat while Rose is clinging to his hands and head, and promising with all her heart that she will never let him go. Jack finally freezes to death, but she can’t let go. Perhaps she was thinking, “Is there any worse betrayal than letting go of a person, a true love with an identity that was not only his, but half yours as well, and letting go BY CHOICE? – even if you are grabbing on to someone or something that you don’t really have anymore? How can you consider a choice like that?”

            Choice is the key word. Facing reality, realizing there is a future and a hope, and running towards that is the wise choice; it’s the beginning of wisdom. It’s difficult, because there is a bit of misplaced guilt in letting go and moving forward. I think we (at least I) sometimes feel it’s a selfish move to pursue life after making a vow to “never let go.” However, we are created to make our own mark in the world. We each have a specific purpose, regardless of emotional ties and relationships. Who we are never changes. Sometimes our path in life is parallel with someone else’s, but at some point there will be a fork in the road. When the other person’s path turns off from ours, it doesn’t mean that our own path stops. Memories should not be a road block in our path. We don’t have to try to cling to memories, because memories cling to us no matter what direction our path takes us.

            If even identical twins have different fingerprints, that is proof of our individuality. Wisdom would dictate that we use that individuality and unique experiences – good and bad – to set our paths apart. That means we all have a different purpose that is of value to someone else.

            Moving forward means you have learned. Someone else’s experiences contributed to yours so that you are finally able to move forward. For me, being able to move forward is a tribute to my husband’s life and the significance he brought to mine.

            Letting go is not giving up. It’s climbing up.

So, let go and let’s go dance on.

“We are not alone in this, we are in this together; We are in isolation, but stay connected while practicing social distancing; We will all get through this, however unemployment is worse now than in our country’s history; Better days are coming, but this virus has not yet reached its peak; Businesses can begin to re-open slowly and with restrictions, but there will be a serious surge in COVID-19 cases and deaths that could be worse than what we have now.”

Whew! Everyone all over the world has heard these statements in every language. Some people are taking them very seriously, some don’t believe them at all. Whether people believe these statements, or whether they think the whole thing is a political plot, or bioterrorism, or accurate, or exaggerated, there is one thing that has become a parallel crisis: we have a pandemic of DOUBT-2020. Doubt is an insidious virus that is seeping into every aspect of our lives. We are doubting the future of our businesses, our careers, and we are questioning our ability to educate our children. We are doubtful of the medical researchers, of our leaders, of our long-term care facilities, and we are even doubting our food supplies. I think the worst doubts are in our relationships, in ourselves, and in our faith. Even if we think we have immunity to the virus DOUBT-2020, all it takes is one word or the raising of an eyebrow from someone, and we are infected before we know it. No amount of bleach, hand sanitizer, nor facemasks will protect us.

Our imaginations play a major role in DOUBT-2020. It is extremely demoralizing when we feel we have no control over something as dangerous as a serious illness, especially when we don’t know much about it. So, our imaginations kick in, we convince ourselves and each other that something is a fact, and we panic. Have you seen the supermarket shelves? That’s panic, and keeping our closets bulging with cases of toilet paper is our way of feeling in control. But we’re not in control…fortunately. If I had to be the one in control of this, there would be good reason to panic. However, God has shown his ultimate control in every crisis in so many ways and through so many people that one would think we would know better by now. Our own doubts combine with presumptions, so we feel we need to take over; it’s so contagious that the negative effects spill over into other areas of our lives long after the initial illness is over. Doubt doesn’t like to let go, and the consequences from it can leave some scars that last forever. “Being in this together” then morphs into “every man for himself.”

I am not a medical or economic expert on crises, and even the certified experts are doubting themselves right now. But we can all be experts in kindness, compassion, patience, trust, and faith. We can learn to be kind to those who are fearful, to be compassionate and reassuring to those who are hurting, to be patient towards those who are confused and angry, and to trust those who are well trained in their field. Most of all, we can have faith in God that He will be the one instigating the recovery of the world, and He will be the one to teach us the strength and wisdom we will acquire through it all.

Lovingly take care of each other as we all

            Dance on.

A few days ago, I convinced myself to spend two and a half hours outside pulling weeds out of my yard. I don’t know why; I hate gardening. I hate the bugs, the dirt, the straining of my back, and I’m always petrified that I’ll come across a snake.

My husband, Bob, loved gardening, and he was wonderful at it. I never liked gardening, and I’m really bad at it. However, I don’t want all of his hard work on our yard to disappear among stubborn and profuse weeds, so I want to do the best I can.

Because of my inexperience, I don’t recognize all of the different plants Bob used to design his landscaping. I really don’t know which ones are weeds and which ones are flowers and bushes that just haven’t bloomed yet. Even some of the weeds have a bit of a bloom, so I have to be careful to not pull up the flowers while tending the weeds. 

The truth is, I did pull up some of the flowers by mistake and left a huge weed that had spread out and put down deep roots. Because it was so healthy and prolific, I presumed that the brown, apparently dormant chrysanthemum was the weed, and the bright, green, shiny-leafed stalk was something Bob must have planted a few years ago. If I had gone a little slower and methodically with a modicum of research, I would not have been fooled by the shiny leaves. I was so desperately intent on recreating Bob’s hard work, I didn’t take the time to discern the original flowers from the “pirate” plants.

Often, when we’re anxious to start something new, or restart something that has been halted, our enthusiasm takes over and we grab onto the thing that has pushed itself front and center or is the shiniest. I call weeds pirate plants because they’re strong, invasive, they take over, and we don’t have to do anything to make them grow. They grow so fast they end up choking out the flowers, our dreams, before they have a chance to blossom.

Putting wisdom to work, taking time to nurture and nourish our dreams, and not letting the pirates hijack our focus from the goal is the only way to stay true to who we are.

When this pandemic of 2020 eases up, and as society begins to venture out, plant some seeds, and grow some dreams, we need to not let ourselves become distracted and choked out by the prolific weeds. I’m sure that this is neither the first nor the last time our journeys will be detoured or delayed, either personally or collectively; life is never a straight line from beginning to end. We must always hold tightly to what is valuable to us, and not let the adrenaline of new or long-awaited opportunities choke out the seeds of our dreams.

Check out the weeds before accidentally yanking up the flowers. Weeds may rush to the front, but flowers acquire their beauty gradually as they rise out of the dark.

And dance on. 

There’s a familiar phrase that people say describes me perfectly: Tyranny of the urgent. Those “people” are probably right. But I know I can’t possibly be the only person who can identify with this. With people who live under this endearing (?) quality, everything has a deadline, and we MUST FINISH ON SCHEDULE! When I get an idea to sew something, it must be done TODAY. If I get inspired to write something, I go into overdrive and write as fast and as much as possible, just in case I forget something. Once I start a project, I can’t sleep until I either finish it or find an obvious and acceptable stopping point. Nothing should be put off until tomorrow if it can be done today, right? Right?? Very wrong.

I know all about deadlines that really are necessary. Term papers have to be turned in, doctor appointments require punctuality, income taxes must be filed by a certain date, work projects must be completed on time, and on and on. But let’s face it – EVERYTHING does not have an urgent deadline. I know I tend to create my own urgent deadlines, because…,well, I don’t know. Ever since I was a very little girl, my mother was always saying to me, “Stop rushing!” I was always trying to find a shortcut, or working too fast, even reading and talking to fast. I sometimes missed a lot or made mistakes. I guess there really was a good reason my mother would chide me for rushing. It’s not that it made her nervous; she knew that rushing would cause me to miss valuable moments or opportunities.

The Bible says, “Be still and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10. What does that even mean? Why be still when there’s so much to do? During this COVID-19 isolation and quarantine, no one is rushing anywhere – not to work, school, appointments…ANYWHERE. There’s nowhere to run away to or distract from one’s thoughts. So, it’s time to sit and listen. To be still.

I used to think that being still was unproductive and a waste of time. I kind of thought it was being lazy. However, being still and allowing yourself to receive, rather than always having to push, push, push is probably one of the most productive things a person can do. I have discovered that, when I am being still, my heart and mind can hear. Trying to hear yourself think or hear God’s voice while under the tyranny of the urgent is like trying to hear a friend whispering to you while standing at a rock concert. You see the lips moving, but you have to interpret the best you can and just hope you got it right.

Another translation of that scripture says “Surrender your anxiety! Be silent and stop your striving, and you will see that I am God.” – The Passion Translation

We have no choice right now, right? We can’t strive at our usual schedule anyway, so all we can do is surrender our anxiety, listen, and let God handle it. No matter what your beliefs are, when you are powerless to change anything, it’s infinitely easier to let someone who does have power take over. Be still and wait. Be still and listen. Be still and chill.

And dance on.

Ever since I was a little girl I have hated change. If there was a substitute school bus driver, I panicked. Major schedule changes gave me nightmares. When a good friend of mine moved away, it left me stunned and nervous about the hole in my life.  When people talk about a “new normal,” the little girl in me wants to scream, “If it’s new, it’s NOT normal!” The big girl in me screams it, too. I don’t know why; well, maybe I do.

For me, “normal” infers a sense of resolution in my life. Whether it’s good or bad, it’s predictable. “Normal” means I have the choice of variants in my personal landscape. When something does change in my life, I like to feel that I have at least some control of it. Otherwise, the change couldn’t possibly be a positive shift in my life, right?

 Yes, I do realize that my perspective is not …dare I say it?… normal.

            So, I’ve done a lot of thinking lately about the word “normal.” The dictionary defines it as  ”conforming to a standard; usual; typical or expected.” This says to me that our own “normal” is variable, because our own standards differ so much from each other.

            “New normal” has always meant (maybe just to me) that I have no choice at all, nor any peace about my situation. I also presumed that it meant it was  forever. It meant I was giving in if I accepted it. It also meant defeat and that I certainly would not derive any benefit from this change.

            Recently, I had a revelation! That’s probably because I’ve actually taken the time to ponder my questions and listen for answers. There’s a change right there.

            If we gauge “normal” by our own standards, then perhaps it’s not our situations that become a “new normal”; perhaps it’s our own biases and perceptions that need to be updated.

            This whole topic became more significant to me when my husband passed away, and people kept telling me that my life would have a “new normal.” My mindset was to prove that I will absolutely not adjust, this will never be acceptable, and “normal” will never again be on my radar. However, I have discovered that finding a workable solution that leads to a resolution is not accepting defeat. It’s actually a triumph. Carrying anger and resentment is accepting defeat. Learning to move forward despite a change of circumstances is rejuvenating, not just motivating. Newton’s first law of motion is, “A body in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.”

            We face unbalanced forces every day, forces that push against us and distract us or slow us down. Some are strong enough to push us backwards. But Newton’s law also says a “body at rest stays at rest.” As people, staying at rest will eventually cause us to emotionally melt away. Even physically we can’t flourish. So there has to be something that will push us forward. That’s where our friends, family, and faith come in. That’s how we keep our eyes on moving forward. Slipping into stubborn self-pity is a move backwards that finally stops at the very bottom. But travelling up and forward has no limit, and the view is much brighter than from the bottom.

             So, a “new normal” does not have to be a place to park for the rest of your life. It may be a change, but it’s only a transitional change that is an opportunity to add a new dimension, new knowledge about yourself, and a chance to think outside the box. It’s not really a “new normal” anyway – it’s simply another conduit to get you to find and use all the gifts God has given you. It’s not about the situation; there will always be new situations. It’s about your new perspective. THAT is the “new normal.”

Dance on.