When my girl was three years old, we enrolled her in a dance class. It was a tap/ballet combo and she picked up the steps rather quickly. And then she got bored. So she would play around in class and then rock it on stage at the recital. It was almost comical.
For us anyway. I'm relatively certain her teachers didn't find it quite as amusing.
She dance for two more years though the third was cut short cut due to a fractured foot she suffered on the kindergarten playground. And to the principal who did nothing but complain because she was crying when we picked her up, HER FOOT WAS BROKEN AND SHE WAS IN KINDERGARTEN!
Sorry, apparently I've been waiting a few years to get that off my chest...
Anyway, during her younger dancing years I always seemed to be exhausted when it was time to take her to class but we trudged through. Our lives always seemed to be crazy on recital weekend and I, quite frankly, spent more time running around like a chicken with my head cut off than enjoying the moment.
Her final year was absolutely insane for a variety of reasons. Almost all of them self-inflicted. I can promise you there was not a lot of joy in our home at all much less when it came to extracurricular activities.
Why am I bringing up the past? Well, because I've recently realized that I was given a do-over. While there are many more opportunities to right a wrong I would welcome, that's not always possible. In this particular instance it was...and He allowed it. And I am grateful.
Last year my girl decided she wanted to take up dancing again. She had turned her attention tumbling during the interim years but was afraid to go back after her elbow injury/surgery/rehab. Can't really say I blame her, really...
But dance she did. And she liked it. It wasn't love but definite like. And we had the opportunity to participate in another recital. She gave a great performance and I was so proud. As that weekend approached, I prayed that it would be fun. Enjoyable. Delightful even.
And it was...
For us anyway. I'm relatively certain her teachers didn't find it quite as amusing.
She dance for two more years though the third was cut short cut due to a fractured foot she suffered on the kindergarten playground. And to the principal who did nothing but complain because she was crying when we picked her up, HER FOOT WAS BROKEN AND SHE WAS IN KINDERGARTEN!
Sorry, apparently I've been waiting a few years to get that off my chest...
Anyway, during her younger dancing years I always seemed to be exhausted when it was time to take her to class but we trudged through. Our lives always seemed to be crazy on recital weekend and I, quite frankly, spent more time running around like a chicken with my head cut off than enjoying the moment.
Her final year was absolutely insane for a variety of reasons. Almost all of them self-inflicted. I can promise you there was not a lot of joy in our home at all much less when it came to extracurricular activities.
Why am I bringing up the past? Well, because I've recently realized that I was given a do-over. While there are many more opportunities to right a wrong I would welcome, that's not always possible. In this particular instance it was...and He allowed it. And I am grateful.
Last year my girl decided she wanted to take up dancing again. She had turned her attention tumbling during the interim years but was afraid to go back after her elbow injury/surgery/rehab. Can't really say I blame her, really...
But dance she did. And she liked it. It wasn't love but definite like. And we had the opportunity to participate in another recital. She gave a great performance and I was so proud. As that weekend approached, I prayed that it would be fun. Enjoyable. Delightful even.
And it was...
And now she's back to tumbling. And loving it. I'm grateful for the do-over, thankful He helped us to make the wrong right, and incredibly proud she's tackling her fears...one round off at a time...
0 comments:
Post a Comment