Dancing

On June 29th, my twin sons died; yesterday, a set of twin boys was born. Today, a dear student/friend/colleague died; yesterday, a beautiful little girl was born. The circle of life: one lives; another dies. There is no rhyme or reason, yet this is the rhythm that we dance to, the beat to which our feet tap: the sound of life and the sound of death. Short taps, long crescendos, ups and downs, a hiccup, a deep breath – and the hope that the circle will continue long after we are gone.

St. Theresa admonished all those who dance this great dance to trust: "Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you; everything passes away except God. God alone is sufficient." For decades, the angels have joined her, whispering softly to startled audiences, "Fear not." And yet, there are moments when the crack of the snare drum is sharp and startling, causing heads to turn, feet to trip, and hearts to skip a beat or two. And yet this is the rhythm of life: powerful, loud, all-encompassing moments that are so startling and frightening that no whisper of reassurance seems to matter in the face of the beat that just keeps marching on.

And yet, if you take a moment to simply listen, you will hear that the sharpness of the snare drum contrasts so beautifully with the ever-present reminder: "fear not, for I am with thee..." And in moments of fear, turmoil, despair, and confusion, we are reminded that the heart of the song is not the beat; it is the melody of truth that lasts from measure to measure to measure, the words that bring comfort, hope, and life – the words that give us the strength to keep dancing when the beat seems aimed specifically at us.

And so, to those who dance with me, I hum the melody that governs all of our lives: "let not your hearts faint, fear not, and do not tremble, neither be ye terrified..."

Fear no evil. He is dancing too.