waiting to dance

i think it's when she dances that i notice it most. whether's she up on a big, serious stage, like she was this weekend or dancing between the refrigerator and stove in my kitchen.

there's this little extra pinch of transformation which takes place.

like a butterfly with new wings.

there's something in her eyes.  something about her face.  something in how she holds her delicate hands and moves her slim shoulders.

there's something in the twirl and leap and spin which grabs hold of my heart when i watch her.  she is so natural. and i wonder, if still in china, would she be dancing? do children in orphanages of 3000 even dance?

i don't mean do they wear sparkly costumes and have perfect ballet buns or glossy curls -- that's ridiculous to think.  but do they have anything in them which wants to twirl and dip?  it's big fun to slip bell into her dance dresses, curl her hair and giggle as we attempt to add some eyeliner (the directions said to apply to the crease of the eyelid --- these directions weren't written for mother's with chinese daughters -- there is no crease)! though that's kind of exciting once a year at recital time, i have to tell you, there's no need for all the sparkly trappings to see bella's joy as she dances.  it's all over her face whether she's spinning on the stage, in the classroom or across the dirty floor of my kitchen.  she dances with joy.

this weekend, bella took part in a large recital.  she and her best pal, emme rouse, have been in classes at the prairie school of dance every thursday. though sometimes getting to class each week is hard for their busy mamas (am i right, diana rouse)?  the girls never want to miss.  they always want to go.  they blow into class each thursday afternoon like two tiny chinese hurricanes. some days we remember ballet shoes and hair buns and some days we barely make it in time with bare feet and messy ponytails.  it doesn't matter.  it doesn't matter one bit how clean they are after quick lunches in the car.  it doesn't matter how tired they are from a lack of nap.  it doesn't matter how cold or wet or wild the weather ...or even how crabby the mommy.  when they enter that classroom they are ALL IN.  there's no hesitation.  no glance back over the shoulder.  no timid turn of the head. nope! they grab hands and push themselves past miss carrie waiting for them at the door. they love to dance.  they dance in puddles of joy, these two.  and when i watch, i find myself dripping wet with the splashes of their liquid love.  it's transformation for them and it's transformation for us.

just before we went to get bella (2 years ago next month)! we were sent this picture of her on the playground at her orphanage.  i have to tell you, i cried over this photo.  yes, i was thankful to finally see her sweet face (we had received very little while we were waiting for her), but this picture kind of broke my heart.  that look in her eyes seemed so detached, so void of childhood, so absent of joy.  i know (now) how easy it is to get bella to smile for the camera, couldn't they have coaxed even a tiny grin out of her? at least for her mama waiting across the ocean?  she seemed so sad.  i probably was reading waaaaay too much into it, but i can tell you, it made me want to highjack the nearest plane and head for china right then and there! this little girl clearly needed to be tickled on her belly and swung high in the air. she needed brothers to piggy back her around the backyard and big sisters to paint her nails and sing songs with.  this little girl, like every little girl and boy, needed a mama and a daddy to squeeze her tight and tuck her into her bed with a thousand "we love you's" each night.

transformation

because that's what happens when we love children well. when they are brought home and held close to the heart.  through our adoption of bella, we've met so, so many kids now with their forever families.  even those children with things like spina bifida and other more obvious special needs, seem to dance in joy.  what is it exactly?  i'll never quite know, but i don't think it's got much to do with us. i am just humbled to be a part of it.  humbled to watch my little girl dance wherever she is.  

when bella and emme were finished with their dance on stage sunday, i was walking them back to their seats in the auditorium.  as we were wiggling our way through the audience, people were giving the girls high-fives, huge smiles, little pats and way to go's!  who isn't a fan of child who dances with joy? 

i adore this photo of emme!  that look!  oh my...talk about JOY!

 bella was clearly caught up in the moment -- 

notice the other ballerinas already up on their feet!

 brothers to piggy back and sisters to paint nails...lots of joy found in these five! 

(by the way, connor's not really angry -- he just didn't like the sun in his eyes).  =)

sweet and so proud...

my favorite shot of the weekend was at the dress rehearsal on saturday.  the mom's had to be back stage for a few minutes helping get the girls situated before their dance.

i caught bella in this sweet moment...

waiting in the wings...

waiting to dance.

and of course you know what i'm going to say next...
this picture only reminds us that in our world today, there are over 200 million other children waiting.

waiting for a chance to dance in joy.

"let them praise His name with dancing..."      ~ psalm 149:3

a time to dance

it is early monday morning,  the sun not up yet, nor this mama out of bed.  asleep, i feel his kiss gentle on my cheek and hear his whisper in my ear, "have a good week sweetheart." and then he is gone.  the sound of his carry-on luggage and him moving down the front staircase.  quiet steps before dawn.  he leaves early every monday and returns late every friday.  home now just for the weekends. kind of like a sweet country love song.  except he returns to five children, saturday sports and yard work.  often when he rolls in late on these friday nights, the fridge is empty and the house is wild and the woman is just plain worn out. i am pretty sure we're in the middle of some crazy dance, but a slow country ballad it is not.


early on in all this weekly travel we made his homecoming an event.  in typical sarah elizabeth fashion, our middle daughter one friday night created a welcome home banner, complete with plugged in christmas lights.  "i want to make sure he can see it when he drives up to our house in the dark," she explained.  she knows her daddy returns tired too.  his week is long. his days are longer. the distance from his family grows greater each week. how many more months of this long distance living?


dinnertime without dad is another thing.  clearly we need his steady presence at the end of our oval shaped table.  it has been strange these past months eating our weekday meals without him.  i suppose the silver lining is now we all fit comfortably around the kitchen table intended to seat six. with rick gone, and one less body, it works.  but not really.  i'd much rather be smooshed together with one child perched on a pulled up stool, than have the extra space from a father on furlow. but it is the dance we are doing right now.  this tricky dance of transition where we attempt to balance what we are leaving and where we are heading.  we all feel it in some way. it is different for my husband who comes and goes, then it is for me.  not easier, not harder, just different.  then there's our teenage daughter. oh,  how my heart breaks for her.  people keep telling me how resilient and adaptable children are.  and i have to agree, they are.  but teenagers aren't really children and they aren't really adults and no matter what anyone says right now it's painful. it's just a plain old hard dance for her these days.


so we move on through our weeks in the whirlwind clash of closing down and gearing up.  all of this as we approach the month of may -- the busiest season of all for those with school aged children, mind you.  and when i peek into my calendar something in me wants to shut it back tightly and sneak it fast into the bottom drawer of my desk. something in me wants to pull those covers back over my head and pretend i have nothing to do and nowhere to go. how do i open my hands wide and willingly accept the long list of items in need of attention?  mom's attention. my attention.  how do i look across the breakfast table and meet the eyes of all five kids in need of me, one woman. how do i step into the dance and embrace this season of change.  this season of mondays and fridays, of comings and goings, of the comfortably well-known and the utterly unknown. i'm not sure. if i'm being honest, i'm just not sure how to do it somedays.


but how about you? what's the dance you're doing right now? we all have them.  mine might be unique to me, but the dance of life is intended for each one of us.  we all have some kind of  swaying which takes place in the midst of our given number of days.  God hasn't left any of us to be perfectly still and sluggishly at ease. He wants movement in our life.  it is part of the dynamic way He has created us.  sometimes the dance is about living in the moment and wrapping ourselves fully around the present...and sometimes the dance moves us forward, faster than we'd maybe like to go, madder than we'd like to be, headlong into the future.

i don't know when i will get to it all. somedays i stare at the pile and realize i have no plan and begin to feel discouraged and clumsy.  spinning. twirling. dipping. it all seems too much, feels too fast for my simple steps.  it is at these weary moments though when i am most reminded about the reason we dance.  
"let them praise HIS name in the dance; let them sing praises unto HIM with the timbrel and harp."  (psalm 149:3) 
i am reminded that it is not about dancing gracefully, but dancing gratefully.  i don't dance for myself or even for my family, i dance to bring Him praise.  and even a stumbling, clumsy gal like myself can do that when i keep my eyes on my partner...on Him.  and my weary, overwhelmed self can rest in His arms when i stop trying to direct the steps and allow Him to lead.   it may not be a slow country ballad...but even this wild dance can be a sweet song...a love song...when He leads.

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.

         ecclesiastes 3:1

 (okay, i'll admit, shameless sharing of my girls and their ballerina photos...

emily and sarah - both in 2nd grade.  bella's first recital is next monday!)