Dancing Through Life

I learned how to dance last summer. Not in any traditional sense, but in the most freeing way possible. I love to dance, but I most often restrain myself to dancing in ways and places you are "supposed" to. I know how to waltz, polka, salsa, samba, merengue and rhumba. I have learned how to simply dance what I am feeling and it doesn't matter if I am in the kitchen with a wooden spoon in my hand. In fact, it was that kind of dancing that felt the best. That is the kind of dancing that I learned last summer. I have to admit that I had the best teacher. She personified joie de vie and she was able to pass on a small past of that to me.

This summer I am getting a dance lesson of another kind. I am usually the one who can be classified as a wallflower. Someone who I would have also classified as a wallflower asked me to dance. She is perhaps not the most graceful dancer in the whole world and her dance does not follow any form of prescribed steps, but despite these facts, she pulled me out of my seat to dance in front of more than three dozen people. While this was not the most graceful moment of my whole life, it was one of the most grace filled moments. The obvious joy that beamed from her smile and her happiness in having someone join in her dance made every moment worth it. In this moment of entering into a dance, it didn't matter if I didn't know the steps or where I was going next. It only mattered that I chose to enter into the dance.

If all moments of life could be taken with the same amount of grace as dance, than I would chose to dance my way through life. I know that there will be times when I may not know all the steps, but knowing that there are hands to guide me and a smile to warm my path would make it all worth it.

An Exception to the Rules

This morning we celebrated the life of a man who has now joined the ranks of the Daybreak saints. Bill passed away peacefully on Friday night, shortly after celebrating his 56th birthday. He was a member of the Daybreak community from the very moment of its foundation. He was the first member to ever enter into this community at the age of 16. Even then, Bill was an exception to the rules.

Bill told jokes. In truth, they were horrible jokes. The best part of the jokes was that the set-up and the punch-lines really weren't the point. The laughter was. Bill had a great loud laugh and his laugh followed every joke. His willingness and ability to laugh invited laughter from all those around him. I'm sure that right now Bill is asking St. Peter "How do you make holy water?"

For many years, Bill was the traveling companion to Henri Nouwen. He spoke with Henri at numerous retreats and conferences that were given all over the world. His untrained, uninhibited responses to life would allow people to drop their defenses towards each other, if even for just a little while, and really connect with those around them. He was able to touch and change the lives of thousands through his work with Henri Nouwen, and after Henri's death, his work with Sue Mosteller in a similar capacity.

Over the past few years, Bill dealt with the realities of a physically failing body. I can only hope that when I am faced with the same restrictions that he is, that I can approach the chances with as much grace and joy. He never ceased to laugh or to enjoy the presence of those around him. The end of his life contained just as much dignity as the rest of his life and he will always be remembered for the joy as well as the depth that he brought to the lives around him. Rest with the rest of the Daybreak saints Bill. You will not be forgotten.