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daughter Beth loves to dance. She has books on dance and dancer
dolls; she is a faithful member of dance class; she can’t wait until
camp next summer, and she is in awe of her teacher. She has shiny
tap shoes and sleek ballet slippers. When we get DVDs of her
dance recitals, she makes her parents and grandparents watch her
performance over and over again. At the recitals, an outsider (or a pained mother) has a different picture. Beth needs to be helped up the steps to the stage. She walks awkwardly with her orthotics crammed in her dance shoes. She stands at an angle, the better to watch her classmates actually dancing. She sometimes moves an arm up and down. She reminds me of the dance scene in West Side Story when one gang is wildly dancing, and the other gang members stand, watch, and click their fingers. Her classmates need to be careful not to run into Beth as they sashay back and forth, and Beth . . . does not. At the end, she needs to be helped down the stairs again and slowly limps to the back of the audience, holding on to her mother. As we left the room during the most recent dance performance, people holding the doors for us said “Beth, you did great!” I also turned to her and said “Beth, you did great!” Her response? “I know.” When I thought of grace, I thought of this story. Through God’s grace and God’s eyes perhaps, Beth performed a great dance. She is full of enthusiasm, and is doing nearly the best she can do. She is indeed full of grace as she admires her classmates and grins at them during the performance. |
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