Not professionally you understand.
But in worship.
Mainly before pregnancy changed my body,
And the way I viewed myself.
But more intensely during my training years,
culminating in a performance at
The Royal Albert Hall, during our ordination and commissioning.
I always think you should quit while you're ahead!
And now I'm just a disco diva.
Play some music.
Dig out my heels.
And I'll be there,
on the dance floor,
for most of the night.
A few months ago I put a new worship CD in the car.
I do quite a lot of driving in a normal week,
so I like to have some options.
There were words of a song that kept coming to me.
Over and over.
"Tears will dry
Your heart will mend
Your scars will heal
You will dance again."
My journey of tears, grief and broken-heartedness
is well-documented on this blog.
The scars of life and ministry?
Of disappointments and betrayal?
Of being misunderstood and misrepresented?
Those scars are hidden.
Hidden from all but the One
who bears his own scars in his hands and his feet;
and asks me to trace them with my fingers
that I might believe.
I will dance again
Is a promise of hope to me.
A promise of freedom.
A promise that sees the dreams of this mother
whose body has seen better days.
Who has carried and birthed three handsome and strong young men.
The dreams of this woman who longs to be able to do more,
but lives within the confines of self-care.
A promise that isn't about the dancing,
but about the dreams of who and what she can be.
It's love beyond reason.
Love without limits.
Love with no restraint.
What's your dream?
Give it to God.