Dancing with Candles

"Bringing healing to the congregation" is written into my current contract.  It's included--with all of the usual tasks of a pastor--because I spoke about healing a number of times in my interview for this call.  I remember specifically describing how we in the church have emphasized Jesus as Savior, and rightly so.  But, I continued, Jesus valued people in this life, too, which is why he healed them.  Jesus is both Savior and Healer.  So I did get hired--along with River--and we've focused on bringing healing to this church in different ways.  One of those different ways came in November.  

The staff was preparing for the first in-person Christmas Eve service in two years and I offered to teach a liturgical dance to "O, Holy Night" (the concept was conceived by, and the original choreography were created by, Jackie Pederson-Kriens).  For the dance all dancers dress in black, the lights of the sanctuary are all off except the Christmas trees, and the dancers hold real votive candles in each hand.  I'd also asked our church pianist, Linda, and her colleague, Elias, a rich baritone, to provide the music for the dance.  Imagine all of these elements coming together and then hearing these words on Christmas Eve:                              "O, Holy Night, the stars are brightly shining.  It is the night of our dear savior's birth.                                  Long lay the world in sin and error pining, 'til He appeared and the soul felt it's worth.                               A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!"

When I posted an announcement in the church bulletin asking for volunteer dancers, I had no idea what response I'd get.  Though I'd been at this church for eight months it was the first time that I'd teach a liturgical dance here and I wanted it to be good!  Eventually seven women, my age and older, signed up, with just one having dance experience.  

When we met for our first rehearsal, my dormant ballet-teacher persona, Miss Nancy, appeared, along with my high expectations.  At times I spoke somewhat emphatically to my dancers, or turned off the music in not-very-well-hidden frustration.  I admit it: as a dance teacher I aim for perfection even with a group of brand-new dancers. At the end of rehearsals, the dancers would kindly say, "Thank you, Miss Nancy, for being so patient with us."  And then I'd apologize to them for not being very patient.   

A month and a half later, it was Christmas Eve.  The dancers had worked hard to learn the dance and to infuse it with beauty and the deep meaning of "O Holy Night."  They were ready.

The big 4:30 p.m. service had begun and we were in the back of the church in our all-black outfits, lighting our candles.  And then we paused, and stood closely together in a small circle, holding our candles in the center.   I thanked them for volunteering to dance.  I thanked them for putting up with "Miss Nancy."  And I thanked them for pouring their hearts and faith into

what they were about to share.  I felt my heart fill with gratitude for them.   And right then, in that candle-lit moment, I realized another part of me had healed and I was so very happy.

Since then I've tried to figured out how this piece of healing happened.  Maybe it was because I'd heard the grace-full words of "O, Holy Night" repeatedly that month.  Or maybe it because the music was so beautifully and skillfully performed.  It could be because I'd gotten to know some of the members of my congregation on a more personal level.  Or maybe because I'd had the chance to teach and to dance for the first time since I moved to Duluth.  Or because music and dancing releases dopamine in the brain.  Of course it was all of these things together that brought healing and happiness to me.  But then again, it was also the eve of the birth of the One who came as Savior and Healer.  

With gratitude for you,

            Nancy ☕

A Happy-Curious Experiment:                                                                                                                     

Looking back at this happy-curious experience I've learned that sometimes healing comes to me looking all ethereal, magical, peaceful and spiritual.  But sometimes it comes while I'm yelling out the counts of music to a bunch of beautiful, volunteer dancers, as they dance with lit candles in their hands and hearts. The bottom line is that there is something unpredictable about healing and happiness; it just doesn't fit into a formula. 

So, are you willing to try a happy-curious dance experiment and see what happens?

For this simple dance you might use Moonlight Sonata or any slow, gentle music (or your favorite music).  Likewise, I thought this experiment would take place standing up but you could also do it sitting.  Lastly, give your body permission to explore these simple arm movements:                                          1.  Lift one arm in front of you.  Lengthen your arm, imaging that you're reaching for something precious.   Let that arm float down to its resting position.                                                                             2.  Try the same thing with your other arm.                                                                                                  3.  Repeat these arm movements 2-3 more times so that they become familiar.                                           4.  Do both arms together, but bring your arms higher, a bit more toward the ceiling.  Repeat a few times.   5.  Next, experiment with changing or adding other movements...until you feel complete.                           

If you try this happy-curious dance experiment I'd be interested in hearing about it.  Leave your comment below in the comments section of this blog as it will help my blog reach more people.  

Thank you!  Nancy ☕