Will I dance for you, Jesus?

One day in first grade, my young teacher had us lay down on drawing paper and she drew around us to create our silhouette. Then she told us to draw and color what we wanted to be “when we grew up.” The empty “canvas” did not scare me at all. I drew myself as a ballet dancer, pink tutu and all.  I proudly took my rolled-up-and-tied masterpiece home and Mom helped me tape it to the back of my bedroom door. It stayed there until the corners were so torn, they could not be taped up anymore and the paper had become discolored. 

As I grew, I realized I didn’t have the grace or the talent that it would take to be a ballerina. I left the twirling to the tiny dancer in my jewelry box and turned my sights on more left-brained career choices.  I never lost my fascination with the graceful art of ballet, though. I have yet to convince Man of the House that we need to see The Nutcracker Ballet, but each year I try.  I marvel at the raw talent of the children in recitals and watch with fascination as the few grow into graceful young ballerinas. 

Lately, I have been listening to music with almost a new ear.  I’ve been more intent on listening to the music itself rather than just enjoying the lyrics.  I don’t know music any better than I know ballet, but I’m learning to ride the highs and lows, the ins and outs, the passionate emphases of certain parts of the melody and recognize the balance that the harmony brings. 

So, it should have been no surprise when I woke from a beautiful dream a few nights ago in which a ballerina was dancing to a song that I’d been listening to over and over for a while.  But I was surprised. I woke with a feeling of fulfillment and peace in my heart, as if I had been the dancer. The song is a worship song that I’ve loved from the moment I heard it; it’s one that I sometimes sing along to and other times, I just listen and weep. 

Another song I love has these lyrics:

“Surrounded by Your glory
What will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus
Or in awe of You be still?
Will I stand in your presence
Or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah
Will I be able to speak at all?”

Maybe my dream was my soul letting me know that I may one day be able to dance my worship, when I am finally in the presence of the Lover of my Soul. Jesus, I can’t wait for the day when my five-year-old self can gracefully praise You with the dance.