The Dance

I entered prayer with a heavy heart.

Out of the depths . . .

Out of the ravine . . .

Out of the gully I cried out.

My cry reverberated from the rugged, dirty, chaotic valley floor.

On the journey through the valley of the shadow of death,

with whom I do share my story?

Who is there to listen to my story?

Why don’t I share my story?

Why do I choose to travel alone?

These questions oozed from deep within the bellow bottom.

My story, like everyone’s story, is a story of pain, frustration, tiredness, struggles, disappointment.

With whom do I share my story?

Sometimes, I don’t.

Perhaps the source of my heavy heart?

Like libation, I poured out my aching heart.

It’s my story.

The content and

The pouring.

Until there’s no more.

I pause.

I remain silent.

I listen.

Is God listening?

What is God saying?

Silently, God’s voice floats up in the words of author Matthew Kelly.

“You are over the speed limit of life. You need to slow down. . .Life isn’t a race, it’s a dance.”

I paused.

I remained silent.

I listened.

I need to slow down!

Become aware of persons asking, “Will you allow me dance with you?” or “Can I dance with you?”

To whom do I need to say, “Yes, dance with me.”

Who will sense, understand and know my aching body, go at my pace, listen to my heartbeat, touch my warm skin, feel the air of my nostril, see the fear in my eyes, hold my limping hands, and encourage my slow moving feet?

Whom will I invite to dance with me?