Sacred (Holy) Dancing...

I was in eighth grade when my father's parents came to live with us.  Grandma had the beginnings of what we now know to be Alzheimer's and Granddad couldn't take care of the farm and her by himself any longer.  So, after they sold everything in an estate sale, we rented a motorhome, and drove from Brownsville, Texas to Ringgold, Maryland and brought them home to live with us.

Grandma could tell you stories about how she grew up with her favorite dog named Sport.  Old Sport was a mixed breed, but was her dog.  At the time, we had a small poodle, named Alfie, who loved to lay at her side, and let her pet him. She would pet Alfie, and call him Sport the whole time. (Alfie didn't seem to mind.)  Funny, Sport had been dead for over fifty years, but for Grandma it was just like it was this morning in her mind.  She had a wonderful memory for things that were when she was younger.  She couldn't tell you what she had for breakfast, but she could remember growing up in West Virginia.

Grandma loved to talk.  She loved to reminisce about the old days, about how she and Granddad met, fell in love, and got married.  She told the stories of how she would wait until Granddad left in the mornings to go work in the fields, and she would lock the two oldest kids in the bathroom upstairs in the farmhouse.  She would then sneak out to the barn, and crank up Granddad's Model T truck and drive it around the front yard of the house.  Granddad didn't figure it out until he ran out of gas one day trying to get to town.  From then on, he always put the truck up on blocks, and Grandma never did get her driver's license.

As the years progressed, her memory faded further and further back, until only a few imprints were left on her mind.  She knew really only two people - my mother (Katie) and her husband (Luther).  Every woman that came into view was named Katie to her, and every man was named Luther.  She didn't even remember her own children's names, let alone her grandchildren.  But she was doing the best she could with what she had. 

In 1981, she lost most of her foot to gangrene, a byproduct of poor circulation due to diabetes.  She had already lost most of her eyesight.  By the end of that year, she would lose her lower leg below the knee, and several toes on the other foot.  The Alzheimer's didn't help - she would forget she didn't have a leg, and would try to get up and walk, assuming the "phantom pain" meant she could still stand up.  Seeing her strapped into her wheelchair was a painful sight, but one that was necessary in order to keep her from injuring herself.

Doing things for Grandma was something that we always wanted to do.  She never had to ask, we could always tell what she wanted - a pillow behind her lower back, a glass of cold water - it didn't matter.  And she would always say thank you in the most peculiar way: "I'll dance at your wedding!"  I don't know if that was something that was unique to the McCoy family dialect, or to West Virginia in general, but she was always promising to dance at my wedding. 

Just recently, a friend showed me a video of a Wedding processional (where everyone usually marches in as if it were a dirge) except, at this wedding, everyone danced up to the altar.  It was amazing!  What a wonderful way to start a new life together - by Dancing before God!  It was reminiscent of King David dancing before the Ark of the Covenant as it was being escorted to the Tabernacle.  As I watched this short video, Grandma's words came back to mind.  "I'll dance at your wedding!"

Well, Grandma didn't make it to the wedding.  One week shy of her 80th birthday, in May, 1986, Grandma died.  While we were all sad, the one thing that kept coming to mind was that she was no longer bound to that chair.  She was waltzing in heaven! 

It is a sacred thing - to dance.  It is the expression of one's deepest joy.  The Spirit soars to new heights, and the Soul rejoices.  It is free to express great gratitude to the One who makes life not only possible - but worth the living.  Dancing is sacred.  Dancing is holy.

In May of 1990, When Jan and I exchanged vows, we didn't have a dance after the ceremony, just a reception in the Fellowship Hall.  But something told me, Grandma was dancing.  And the dance goes on...

Grace and peace,
Brad