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International Dance Day is tomorrow (April 29). Commemorating it always sparks nostalgic memories.
I remember when I was a young dancer at the studio I trained in and we’d have movie nights, story-time circles, and coloring pages that our teachers prepared for us to learn about the history, technique, and value of dance. I can still recall the sound of gleeful laughter, the smell of fresh popcorn, and the sights of bright-colored tutu drawings which characterize these priceless memories.
Many years have passed since the moments the became those memories took place. Since then, personal choices, academic pursuits, and health conditions have changed my relationship with dance.
I still consider myself to be a dancer because I live in a way that is very much built around a creative worldview, a passion for communication, processing emotions through expressive movement, and physical discipline. I take some time to train daily (I have my own dedicated studio space at home) and choreograph little pieces as much as I am able to (you can find some of these published around the blog).
If you asked, I’d say in a heartbeat that dancing is my favorite thing to do in the whole world.
But I cannot do it as often or in the same way as my other dancer friends do. I haven’t set foot on a stage for years, I don’t spend 6-8 hours in a large studio every day, and my hair no longer bears the consequences of being plastered by layers of hairspray.
I’ve learned, firsthand, that truly there is “a time to mourn and a time to dance”1. It has always been this way for me.
I trained continuously for over ten years, from my elementary school days up to shortly after my high school graduation. During this time, I had the opportunity to be a part of several performances and take on principal roles, work as an assistant and substitute teacher, and choreograph fragments of the pieces we presented. Simultaneously, I also had seven sprains, a scoliosis diagnosis, and a season of debilitating weight loss, among other adverse experiences that were not directly related to dance.
I was familiar with making whatever adjustments were necessary for me to recover and bounce back into the studio, and at the time my teachers understood this and cooperated compassionately. Eight weeks off for a sprain? Check. Months of swimming lessons so my back would get stronger? Check. Supplements to recover muscle mass? Check.
Then, shortly after beginning University, my health was well and stable for long enough so that I began to train at an even more advanced level technically and also prepare to teach dance while studying psychology full time. This went on for about two years until I became severely ill (full story here) and there was no such thing as “bouncing back” like I had been used to do before. Since then, almost another two years have passed and I have recovered my health, and with it, my ability to dance – though I definitely do not do it in nearly the same way as what you would think of when someone who goes in the studio every day and performs several times a year tells you “I’m a dancer” does.
In spite of this, I am beyond grateful to be able to dance in the way that I do. I make an effort to prioritize functionality, technique, and, above all, choreograph so that I can communicate to connect with people’s experiences, and simultaneously invite them to come into contact with something bigger than themselves in a way that only the arts can lead us to.
Yet because I’ve had to dance “less”, I’ve strengthened so many other abilities and learned to truly love other activities that I do.
For example, I’ve started this blog and grown my writing skills (which, from what I hear, has blessed many of you – this still amazes me deeply). I have taken up painting again, which I fondly enjoy – I took art classes from beginner up to college level for years intermittently during the times in which I was pausing from dancing while I had to recover from different injuries.
And, of course, I have also delved into the world of psychology and education, as I am professional in these areas. In these scenarios I’ve also had opportunities to grow, investigate, and create in new ways that contribute meaningfully to the people I come into contact with. In fact, I’m looking forward to specializing in integrating the arts and therapy, and I love that I can bring together my passion for the arts and science as tools for supporting the development of the people I work with.
Yet somehow, at times I have felt “less of” a dancer because of these differences compared to what the “standard “definition of a dancer is. As I wrestled with this a while ago, a friend of mine, whom I admire profoundly, told me, and I paraphrase: you are no less of a dancer for working in a therapeutic setting instead of working in the studio full time and performing on a stage. God gave you the gift of dance and it is for you to hold with open hands.
Her words were comforting, and also came across as idyllic, for at the time I had understood the idea that as I held in my hands a gift from God it was up to me to enjoy it and do as most of it to the best that I could. Only seven weeks after that conversation, I experienced the event that turned my life around. As the process of experiencing decay in my body, looking for a diagnosis, following treatment, and moving on after remission unfolded, I learned that’s not how it works.
Almost two years later, I’ve come to understand that holding the gift of dance [and this applies to just about anything/anyone else in our lives] with open hands implies that God can take it away and give back as He deems best. Through the process of learning this, He has worked relentlessly and compassionately to change me so that I can now love Him more fully for who He is and who He says I am, rather than loving the things I could do for Him. Yes, read that last part again.
On the days that I can workout, I do so. On the days that I can choreograph and perform, I wil do so. On the days that I can teach, I do so. On the days that I can pick up a brush and paint, I do so. On the days that I get to work with children and their parents or educators, I gladly do so. On the days that I can lay in bed and wait for the pain to pass, I do so. Through all of these days and others in between, I am His.
The God who puts in my muscles enough energy for a triple pirouette is the same God who provides ice packs and heat pads for the recovery of those muscles. The same God who lifts my hands during a balancing sequence is the same God who moves them to write, paint, and serve others outside the dance studio.
I am no less His, no less loved, no less purposeful doing something else besides twirling around the dance floor. And surely, He is no less worthy of praise in either of those circumstances.
Still, even after all these years of making adjustments and learning to love the Lord more, who I am, and what I do as a dancer and besides dancing, I admit that my heart still sinks a little every time I realized I had to cut dance training so that I could accommodate for some change in my diet, adjust to a new work schedule, or prioritize some other area of life. Sometimes I felt as if I begin mourning all over again.
Lately, that burdensome sadness of mournig has become less heavy, as I have become genuinely excited for the other things I do besides dance. I still look forward to taking up formal dance training in a way that is appropiate for the stage of life I find myself in now, and in relation to the goals I have thought about for my dance abilities. I have made peace with acknowledging that, as my life goes on, I will balance the work I do around dance with the work I do in other areas – while prioritizing my health and interpersonal relationships – as the Lord guides me by and by.
After this resolution, the contrast between mourning and dancing continues to strike me, and has led me to think about King Solomon’s simple, yet impacting statement: “There is a time for everything under the heavens … a time to mourn and a time to dance”1.I find it interesting that not only in this passage, but in so many others, Scriptures contrasts mourning with dancing:
- – When the Israelites were released from slavery in Egypt and had crossed the Red Sea into freedom, the first thing they did was dance2.
- – As the Israelites were mourning in exile, God promised them He would bring them back to Himself and they would again rejoice in dancing3.
- – King David explicitly said God had turned his mourning into dancing4.
In all of these stories, the people’s response through dancing came as a result of restoration and fulfillment of God’s promises for their lives. I think this points to some important lessons:
The first, is that even while we endure hardship, God is still working for our good and His promises of restoration remain true even if more time must pass before He fulfills them. Against all odds, we must cling to His grace, believe in that truth, and wholeheartedly submit to however He determines they will come to be fulfilled.
The second, is that life is an ongoing process of growth as we get to know Him more. His will for our lives is for us to be with Him and glorify Him – this can happen in any circumstance as we do different things. The most important thing is not the external, fleeting circumstances that could alter our doing, but rather the internal, eternal essence of our being that is transformed more and more into His divine nature5.
And lastly, that what He puts in our hands at any given point is truly a gift. A gift from Him, to demonstrate His faithful goodness6. A gift for us, to rest in the sufficiency of His provision7. And a gift to those around us, to point them to Him, for He alone, and nothing else, is our life8.
As I close this post, I’d like to remark that dance is and always will be a core part of my life, for it is a passion and a gift the Lord has given me and taught me to put to use through different ways, with different purposes, in different seasons under His sovereignty. Even if my daily reality is different than what I might have expected my life as a dancer would look like, I have resolved to trust He has done it in this way for reasons beyond my understanding – and what a grand gift of grace it is that He asks for our trust and not our comprehension!
Today, I encourage you to reflect upon the things in your life about which God is inviting you to open up your hands and let Him take charge.
May you look back at the end of the process and say, “So much better Your way”9. May we steward His gifts to us so that we might know Him and make Him known, until upon reaching the pearly gates we will hear our Father say, “Well done, good and faithful servant”10.
References:
- Ecclesiastes 3:4
- Exodus 15:20-21
- Jeremiah 31:12-13
- Psalm 30:11
- 2 Peter 1:4
- James 1:17
- 2 Corinthians 9:8
- Colossians 3:1-4
- Batistelli, F., Gretzinger, S. (2018). Defender. Own It. Word Entertainment.
- Matthew 25:23
The Inner Landscape 
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