Dancing

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A slow dance, a lingered gaze, a conversation spanning days…a pace that is slow and kind, this way that He Himself created in me, who can fill it up but the One who made it like a lazy old sea lapping steady on a sandy shore.

Like Cinderella’s shoe, I found my perfect fit in You. When the Angels witnessed my feeble hand accepting Yours in this slow dance, this ready grace, didn’t they sigh? Like me, did they cry?

When the ties of sin fell loose at my feet from our rhythmic steps did You smile at me?

And when the swaying dance gained time and you began to whisper into my ear and blew the sounds of freedom through the folds of my heart did You know we were always meant to be?

When shoulders draped in shame shed that devil’s sham did Your delight ignite this skip in my step? I think so.

Jesus, even when I misstep and the beat feels faint within me You won’t let our dance die. You rush in for the twirl that revives me again.

We won’t stop dancing.