Ballet

I’ll see if I can dash in a few words here….

I love ballet. I really do. You kind of have to to keep at it for ten years. Sometimes, though, I get aggravated with it, I’ll be honest. There are times when I have no desire to do any more piqués, put on those horrible once-pink tights, or deal with any more lazy snotty good-for-nothing eighth graders who see ballet class as an opportunity to gossip with their friends. [Sarah, this does not include you of course. You are a wonderful dancer and I need nice calm people like you who never get upset to rescue me] Okay, that doesn’t happen much, I know it shouldn’t happen at all, and in fact most of you will tell your parents all about this particular sentiment and you’ll all think I’m a horrible person for thinking that. I’m sorry.

I walked into class yesterday halfway expecting one of THOSE DAYS. Guess what? I was restored to the beauty of ballet. We had a wonderful class – I finally landed a double pirouette, and the sensation of spinning round and round was positively exhilarating. My devélopés managed to go where I wanted and now I’d better get to the point before I lose you completely.

I think sometimes our spiritual lives get like that – dry and lifeless. You start coming apart at the seams…then God reaches out and bam, you begin to fly.