Beauty and Dance

As I write this, I am sitting in a Corner Bakery in downtown Chicago, 2 blocks from the Joffery Ballet. On a weeknight. During spring break. In a week I am working downtown several days. Why? Because I love my 15 year old and I support her dreams. It is hard to say, I support her dreams. Her dreams that she might dance, her unrealistic, less than 1% chance that she will succeed, and no one makes money in the arts anyhow but she really loves dance dreams. 

Clare started dancing at 3, like a lot of little girls. She was good, but at 3, who cares. Then at 9 she was still good. At 12 she was working really hard, but was not as good as other girls. At 15, she holds her own, but a lot of girls are better, in honesty, but she loves it. She is passionate, and she is driven. More driven than I ever have been about anything in my life, I'm kinda lazy. That is why, when her classmates are vacationing, my daughter is seeking out drop in classes all over the city. Sometimes she is so bold as to take the train and hoof it to the classes herself, but, not in the dark as it will be when class ends tonight. 

She works harder than I do for anything. Yet, I have to work harder for her to work that hard, it requires multiple jobs, lots of sacrifice and often frustration. But, she loves it. And, it makes her even more beautiful. Ballet has taught her grace in tha face of extreme disappoinment. It has taught her grace in the face of great joy, the kind of joy that wants to brag, but cannot. It has taught her how to work, and how to encourage, it has taught her that her body is a temple. It teaches her every day that that temple will betray you, and that you have to love that temple. It has taught her that no matter what others may say about her body, it is strong and powerful, it is good to her when she is good to it. Ballet has taught her how to laugh, how to smile and how to cry without ever making a sound, but through every limb and gesture. 

We are too poor for her to succeed in the same ways her peers do, private lessons, summer intensives and scholarship competitions are not in her future, but, she assures me that a good story goes a long way, and parents that sacrifice is the best story any director can hear. A mother who can sew has helped, too. Everything she has learned in ballet she is starting to pass onto another generation, through the 5 classes a week she teaches, because, she has also learned, teachers are not always those who danced the best, but are often those who are the kindest, most patient and the best learners. And, bring the beauty of joy to eager hearts.

Through the Storm, Through the Night.

As previously mentioned, there have been trials of late, and by of late I mean the last 3 years. There is nothing that we have not made it through, but emotionally and psychologically, the damage lingers. My sense of hope has ben diminished. I used to be far more optimistic than I am, not, reality surrounds me, and I do not get my hopes up much for anything.

Take for example job interviews. My husband has been out of work almost 3 years, 3 long hard years, unemployment ran out a long, long time ago. When this situation was new, I got excited with every interview, hopeful that this would be the one that would change our situation, to allow us to plan to the future again, rather than just get through the week. But, interview after interview I was let down. Even the few that have lead to job offers are horrifically disappointing. No one hires for full time, they job is irregular, the pay is insulting, or the work is degrading. I have no hope that we will ever not be poor. But, Deb, you say, you have a roof over your head, and food on your table and your daughter still dances. This is true, I can't figure out how we do, but it is true. On paper, none of these seem possible, yet they happen. And I am thankful for these. But, one cannot rely on miracles to pay the bills. 

God has provided, true, and all my hope is in Him, but even that is a mental struggle. He has given honest work for me, but it is hard work, with strange hours and unpredictability. Please do not think I am asking for easy street. All I desire is a return to hope, to peace, and to stability. I desire hope above all things. 

My daughter is dancing to "Precious Lord, Take My Hand" so it is played very often in our home. It has always been a favorite song, but the story behind it was something I learned just a few years ago as I sang a Mass for the loss of a baby. Read it here .The song gives me hope, it reminds me even in my weary days, to persevere on this long journey. Here is the version the daughter is dancing to, my personal favorite.

Reflection

As times changed, I fell away from writing, from reflection. But, my circumstances have greatly changed and I feel that it is time to return to what has always given me comfort, writing. Several friends have requested that I return, but mostly for the Xavier chronicles. While Xavier does provide many laughs, but there is much more to my thought process. This reboot may not be as cheery or as light, as I said, life has changed, but I will try to intersperse the introspection with Xavier's thoughts. I have no idea if there are or will be any readers here ever again, but I ned to do this for myself, to have an outlet.  Let us journey together is that is what is meant to be.