Monday, October 22, 2012
A few weeks ago, my lyrical teacher asked all of the girls to write down their favorite memory.
She said she was going to use them as inspiration for choreography throughout the year.
But favorites make me nervous.
I couldn't think of anything in particular, let alone pick just one.
I came up with singing silly songs with my sisters in the van and taping them on a road trip.
A favorite. One of many.
I though of other favorites the rest of class, and on through the week.
Swinging at the park with two friends, before I had sisters, and comparing how many times we'd watched Dragon Tales that day.
The infamous mess my cousin and I created- the crazy imagination behind it.
Not liking the design I had drawn on my relief painting during an art class, and deciding to paint red all over it. When I was setting it on a rack to dry (much happier with it), my teacher came up and said she had wondered about my madly painting the thing red, but thought it turned out very nicely.
The summer day I played in the blow-up pool with a neighbor boy, then he got ants in his pants and really did do a dance.
Finding out the really tough teacher at a dance intensive was married to the really eccentric one. Laughing hard with my friend at the irony.
Climbing the steps into a large cave and music from a symphony filling the cathedral chamber.
The moment the lights came up on stage and, after feeling a bit jittery with an audience, immense peace rushing through me as I felt like God was really the only one watching me dance my emotional solo.
And that's a sample.
I could go on and on.
Not because all these things were fabulous.
Just because they mattered.
Mattered because of the people.
Mattered because of the season.
Mattered because I learned something.
Mattered because all of life really is woven together.
God just has such a story.
He gives absolutely everything meaning.
I think every day may be a favorite.