She doesn’t feel like it often, maybe once or twice during the later months. But when it happens, it’s a moment of magic. It starts with the perfect song, and a slight shake of her shoulders. Soon, it’s an irresistible sway. No one is around, and besides, it’s been so long since she moved any which way but awkwardly. So, she’s on her feet; laughing at herself but giving in anyway. A glimpse of herself in the mirror, and she smiles.
She dances the way she remembers doing a year ago, knowing it looks silly. And yet… it’s something amazing, too. Something she instinctively knows women have been doing for eons. Dancing, with life inside, life without. Joy in motion- joy in the moment- joy in what God has done. It is as natural as breathing. No one must teach her, she is lead by an ancient cadence. The songs change, the women, the clothes, the cultures… but the dance is always the same.
I am created, and, oh miracle, I carry creation. Aches and pains fade away in the marvel that is that, and I am light as air. So, I dance, and I laugh, and I love right this minute more than any other, and I love the One who gave it.
Let them praise his name with dancing, making melody to him with tambourine and lyre!