dance

I took my first dance class when I was three years old, and from that moment on, it shaped my life. Three-year-old Jaclyn felt that music was life, and I just HAD to move to it. Dance was how I practiced joy and freedom. I studied all kinds of dance and was a part of a ballet company until I left for college. But it goes back even further. According to my parents, I came into the world dancing. If there was music, I was moving. Truth be told, I don’t even really need the music. I can hear it within me. I can hear it in the sounds of life all around me.

This isn’t just a “Jaclyn” thing. I think we all hear the music of life from within and around us. We just haven’t always had the opportunity to tap into it authentically. Much of life seems to blot out the songs of life. But, when we connect to this music, this life-pulse, we are connecting to the source of life—the source of goodness and wholeness. We may call this goodness and wholeness by different names. I call it God.

For me, this flow is a combination of God’s Spirit and my spirit in relationship. We are dancing. I don’t always know where the dancing is leading. I don’t always get the steps right. But I can hear the music. And I know I can trust it.

Someone once told me that I “pray like a dancer.” They didn’t even know that dance was a part of my background. And even though I would not have said it in those words, I knew what she meant. It’s a battle to stay connected, but by grace, I’m tapped into the flow of the source of life. Following the flow is what makes me breathe. It is everything.

Studying dance taught me to see the connections between the small moments that lead to the big moments. Silence is the breath before the crescendo. The pliés and tendus that lead to the arabesques and grand jetés. What I loved, and still love, about dancing is that it illuminates the world with nuances encompassing the vibrancy of God’s creativity. The music and the movement combine to create stories that reflect the human experience. It’s tangible and intangible all at once.

But then the music ends. You leave the stage. Life is “real” again. The moment is gone. Or is it? We can keep the moment going when we realize that we have the music in us and that it is all around us. We can stay in the flow. And we know that it’s more than merely momentary.

This space is where I will share my journey of living in God’s flow. Some of what I share may resonate with you. Some may not. This invitation is to join and share. One of the gifts of dancing with God is sharing the dance floor. Three-year-old Jaclyn knew this and jumped in with her whole self. Let’s dance.

May it be so.