My Dance

She spins and twirls and her chest heaves from sighs that aren’t tiredness, but little-girl devotion. I know my wee thing well enough to know that when her eyes clamp shut and her arms whisk unmethodically through the air, there is an auditorium she goes to with seating for One.

Occasionally, she’ll peek out from underneath her mind’s dance studio to see where I am. If I catch her eye, she stumbles with distraction like one caught in the shower singing. She loves it — her mama’s delighted eye — but she didn’t come for this.

Her dance is my writing. Though I am adult, seeking to regain my six year-old heart.

Muscle memory wants me to perform for an audience, but my sigh is released when I hear one phrase or one word from my audience of One. Though I know all of my writing has sweet potential to please Him, the place where I dance most uninhibitedly is the place I’m inviting you, dear reader, for the remainder of this holy week.

Lately I’ve been practicing a new form of adoration. Instead of just a verse or two (or three) which describe Jesus, I’ve been taking a passage about Him and sliding myself right in there — feeling the desert dust on my knees and smelling His sweat as I stand near enough to the scene to adore the God-Man I get to witness. Friends, this flesh against God-made-flesh perspective, turned upward into adoration, is doing a number on my insides.

It seemed only natural to continue this during a week where time stops, and we have a chance to remember — through the lens of God, inside of us.

For the next few days, I’ll be adoring God through the Holy Week scriptures, over on the right-side of my blog, My Morning Chai. (The first post for this week begins here.) You can easily subscribe to these devotional meditations as they are delivered, by using this feed: or by entering your email address in the second box on the right-hand side (scroll down a bit).