Posts Tagged ‘Dancing’

Oh how I love this song … when I hear it, I think of miracles. You see, my eldest daughter is a bit (those who know her realize just how much of an understatement that it) of a Cinderella. As, a matter of fact, the theme of her 17th birthday party was ‘Disney Princesses’. And she, as Cinderella, hosted her ‘dressed princessy’ friends to the ball … but I digress.

So, the song reminds me of a miracle. The miracle is, that between his love for his daughter, and her love of all things princess, my hubby dances with his first born princess to this very song. Now how, you ask, is this a miracle? Ya gotta know my hubby! Dancing is one sacrifice he is not normally willing to make! He has no interest in dancing, at all, period. I think I could count, on two hands, how many times he has danced with me in our eons of marriage. Sometimes he ‘pretends’ to dance in public, mocking himself as he moves in a manner similar to the groundhog in the movie ‘Caddyshack’.

But, I digress …

There is something so sweet about dancing with your dad, papa, daddy, pops … whatever you call him, to dance with your father IS to be princess, even if that one dance at the ball is 2:42 long. To dance with your father is to dance with the prince of the kingdom.The only kingdom a little girl knows of.

I remember dancing with my dad one time. I was in elementary school (aka the years of princesses), and my parents were preparing to go to a dance at the local high school (when you are from a ‘village’ of about 1600 people, there is only one high school). My mom (probably late … Mom, you know it’s true) was still making herself beautiful, and my dad was listening to the music on their ‘K-Tel’ album, playing on the ‘record’ player (oh, how old I am). And, although I cannot remember who initiated for sure, we were dancing together. Me and my dad. My memory is vivid of being transported to the castle, dressed in a beautiful gown, dancing with my prince …

And that memory made me believe that dreams do come true. That there was a prince for me (other than my dad), that, one day I would wear a gown and be held by my prince, and live happily ever after. It is a memory of such a significant event, that it ‘fed’ the princess within, to grow, to hope to dream for something even beyond my imagination.

Every little girl needs a memory like this … of dancing with her dad, or whoever her living prince is. She needs this memory, like she needs food, and education, and ‘stuff’ … probably more than education ‘stuff’  😉 A little girl needs the model of a strong, protective, loving prince, so that when she is sought out by the frogs and toads of life, she will be able to recognize the dance of a prince among them. My hubby has had very big shoes to fill, and my daughters future princes will have big ones to fill as well.

But the dance is not just for ‘Cinderella’ or ‘Belle’ or ‘Beauty’ or “Ariel’. No, it is as much for good old Prince Daddy, as for the Princess. It’s just that, dad’s, you forget, what the prince never knew, while she is still in your arms …

“Cause all too soon, the clock will strike midnight, and she’ll be gone”

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It’s a weird thing, getting ready to celebrate my daughter’s 14th birthday, but not getting to celebrate it with her … except on Skype … a poor substitute!

You were a long awaited answer to prayer, after agonizing losses, and, finally acceptance that you might never come to be. Man, we should have known that you would not be any easier after birth, than the waiting before.

You came to us (via the stork, of course, what 14 year old wants to accept that there could be any other way … gross? AND what mother, who gave birth, wants to be reminded of the birthing process?) on an beautiful spring, warm and sunny day, with magnolia trees in full bloom just outside the hospital walls … how idyllic … today it is raining, and pouring!

Your birth was quick and natural (aka … hum, sin is natural … enough said), and you slept through the first night … and that was the only night you slept through for two years!

Your hair was the color of a shiny copper penny, and it covered, not just your head, but your back, and even on the sides of your face (we called you our monkey … and now, when you have friends over, we realize that monkeys attract each other).

We took you home to your sister who so desperately wanted you (to have someone to boss around).

And now you are 14, and so much more aware of the world. As a child you amazed me, at how you could find a playmate in anyone; no difference was a barrier. You played with anyone, no matter their age, where they were from, or gender.

You still can find a playmate in anyone, but you now see that there are differences … growing up can mean you lose beautiful innocence.

There is something I desperately do not want you to lose, and I see it fading …

Don’t stop dancing. There is freedom in dancing, there is dreaming in dancing, there is uniqueness and creativity in dancing, there is worship in dancing. All of that, just from dancing … alone … by you, for you, for your Creator.

My most beautiful memory of you is that hot summer day, when, on the cusp of … changes, you played dress-up, felt the cool of the shaded grass between your toes, and you danced all over the back garden. And I stopped and watched, and drank in that moment of innocence, and freedom … and thanked God, that you finally sleep through the night that He prompted me to pick up the camera to keep this memory of you for all time.


I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you’ll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

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