We weren't allowed to go to dances at our parent's request during our young dating years so we danced behind closed doors while Jack Johnson’s voice twirled us around the room. 

Jack talked about a piano taking up a small apartment & the how fast time moved, but time stood still for us as the floors creaked like worn car doors underneath our bare feet.

We weren't good dancers. Our insecurities showed off whenever we stepped onto the dance floor, but those private moments of just him & me - well, they are something good love stories are made of. 

I wait to watch him lead and stumble sometimes going my own way, but we find the music again. I do not think about what song is coming next on his ’06 mix tape as I fearlessly walk into this moment of nothing else, but a dance between two lovers.

I was in one of my best friend’s wedding this past weekend. It was filled with diamond rings, dancing till your feet hurt, late night talks about life & eggplant colored dresses. Only the best kind of magic in one weekend.

One of my favorite parts at a wedding is the first dance between the new husband & wife. I find it amusing when the bride and groom do an upbeat dance but my favorite first dances are when the music is slow and the couple embraces as if to scream: no matter what life throws at us, you will always be enough for me. 

Tom & Laura danced slowly as the words followed them like the wind on their backs:

If I never get to see the Northern Lights or if I never see the Eiffel Tower at night,

Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand,

Baby, I could die a happy man.                                                

 

They did not worry about who was watching or how they will pay for the overpriced photographer or if the guests are pleased with the carrot cake.  No, they only cared about that moment intertwined in each other’s arms slow dancing.

I thought about the patience it takes to slow dance. The vulnerability and surrender as you wait to be lead in a tight embrace of a steady, familiar tune.

 I pray I can wait on God like that.

If I’m honest, waiting on God feels more like I'm drowning in the great Atlantic and God comes to save me, but I take both of us under unable to yield to my own rescue. Waiting on God is one of the most unnatural things I have done.

But, what if I could accept His invitation to slow down – while others keep moving – and not look around at the crowd, but be exclusively immersed in the moment of just him & me?

What if I could see a new side of this wait I am in and realize it is not a time to be still, but a time to move towards Him intimately?

Maybe waiting on God is not an appeal to change, but an invitation of a slow dance. Maybe His slowness is for me to learn the rhythms of grace & to understand the beat of His heart. Maybe it’s a chance to test if my heart will truly shout: He is enough for me. Maybe, just maybe, I have been stripped of all security to be found in the middle of the spotlight secured only by Him.

Can I say if I never get the thing I desire most – motherhood – I will still be happy with just him and me? Perfect love would shout “yes!”

I fear I look around wondering why Love didn't call my name for motherhood? So, tonight I am asking, can you perfect my love for you, God? Where “things” and “blessings” don’t show me your love, but the just the nearness of You is more than enough for me.  Can you take me out on the dance floor and show me what it means to be held and secured by real love? Because I need you to slow dance with me till I understand this waiting season is not for my punishment but for the undoing of imperfect love. Perfect it, God. Because You are more than enough. 

I want to be done with the immaturity of comparing wait times of others life’s stories and live free enough to slow down and dance to my own beat. And right now my beat is slow & I’m learning to slow dance. I’m not very good yet. I step on His feet sometimes & try to take control – I may even desire to request another song– but He takes me in closer & whispers: the safest place you will ever be is slow dancing with me.

So, Jack play your song again. I’m older now and have some moves I have yet to learn. I’ll grab my dancing shoes while I’m here in the waiting room and see that when God seems slow, maybe He is just extending His hand saying, “come dance with me”.

Oh, and Jack, make it a slow one. 

1 Comment