dancing {the post I couldn't write}

Before she could walk, Emmerson could dance. As a former dancer, it does my heart so good to see her moved by music. Dancing with her is one of my favorite things (next to dancing with Husband, of course.)

Dancing is always a release for me, a way to forget everything, even if only for a few minutes. It also gives me reason to be silly and carefree, let go a little. (We could all use a little "let go" time, yeah?)

In my short 27 years, I've learned that life is full of seasons. And the thing about seasons is they are guaranteed to change. Which is scary and refreshing. As much as I love cold weather, I wouldn't enjoy a life of only winter. I hate the summer heat, but I welcome the warm after the cold. To survive these seasons, you have to dance. You have to move from one step to another.

I can appreciate this season because I lived through the last one. I can look forward to the next season because I've learned from the present one. I'll be the first to admit that I don't always dance gracefully through each of life's seasons. Quite the opposite in some most cases. Some seasons require a slow ballet, others an angry lyrical. A beautiful duet with husband, or a quick enthusiastic Charleston. More than anything, I find myself childishly dancing on the shoes of my Creator. Willingly (or un-willingly) allowing Him to lead.

I've been avoiding my blog, (minus the small, fun updates of Emmerson.) I've been pushing back my desire to write about life and what God has done in our lives.

I've been ignoring it completely because this post demands my ugly, flawed heart to be brought into light. It requires me to be vulnerable, imperfect, and every other "bad" word a Christian (let alone a pastor's wife) should be.

Keeping this inside has done nothing but destroy me from the inside out.
It started in my heart.
It took over my mind.
It took captive my thoughts.
It controlled my mouth.
It possessed my body.

The last "deep" post I wrote was in October, the day before we told the world we were moving. Accurately titled, "when it is not well with my soul". (You'll probably want to read that one first, if you haven't already.)

I re-read that blog often and long for the faith of that author. I wish I had her peace. I wish I knew her truths. Which is crazy, because I definitely wrote that myself. But that Lauren, she might as well be a stranger.

Somewhere between writing that post and where I am today,
I forgot to say "it is well with my soul."
Chant "it is well with my soul."
Weep "it is well with my soul."
Whisper "it is well with my soul."
Scream "it is well with my soul."

I have allowed internal and external battles to take my faith, little by little, away from me.

Moving.
New house.
New church.
New people.
New city.
New life.

I was stripped of my music. I felt alone on stage, in the dark. I forgot who was holding me. I forgot who was guiding me, step by step. I forgot who knew the next move before I even got there.

I remember now. That the same God that brings cold seasons, is the same God that brings new life in spring. I can find enough joys in today to get me to tomorrow. I don't always remember all the steps, and I can't even tell you what the next song is, but I can dance right now. I can delight in His presence, give thanks in the suffering, and keep showing up to the party.
I can (and will) say, "it is well with my soul."

My desire is to become a professional dancer with Christ. To be the well rested, well rehearsed partner that leans on the Leader. I hope and pray that Emmerson continues to dance (both physically and spiritually) and my heart equally prays to be that example for her.

No matter what season, no matter what song, dance. Dance, baby girl. He's got you.