Saturday, June 25, 2011

The Dance

When I was a dancer (ballet, by trade), many hours were spent in a stuffy studio, sweating, working endlessly under the direction of the choreographer to perfect my art. It was hard work, often times excruciating. Injuries or no injuries, I was expected to perform. To push. To work. And if I fell? I got up and tried again. Dancing was my passion. There was something exhilarating about working so hard for so long to produce a beautiful dance. So much was involved, and so much was required, but it was so worth it.

Those days, I learned a lot about life and purpose. I suppose you could say that my career as a student, apprentice, dancer, and teacher was a school of virtue for a bigger and better dance that at the time I had no idea I was already dancing.

In the great scheme of life, like dance, there are highs and lows, lifts and falls. There are moments of laughter and pure enjoyment, and moments when you have to look for the joy. There are times when we fall (and oh, does it hurt). And we find ourselves in that place, wondering where we can muster the strength to get back up again. Maybe we just want to lie there, and wallow in our self-pity. Perhaps we want to declare defeat and resolve to make no resolve at all except failure. And then, after a few moments (hopefully only a few), we realize that its pretty boring down there on the ground, and so we stir to stand, one limb at a time. Half way up, a Force grabs us and lifts us the rest of the way. And we dance again, knowing if we fall we can get back up again because we have a merciful and loving Father there to help us. All he asks, in the words of St. Paul, is that we love the fight, and not the fall.

And so we really can dance through life, finding the pleasure in each and every step, knowing with the Lord's guidance when to leap and know He'll catch, when to be still and know He's speaking, and when to find the rhythm again.

I think I'm at a point in my life when I'm realizing, more than ever, that I'll always be working on that fight. There is no "just get to graduation and then life will be easy" (as I foolishly thought about 11 years ago). Marriage takes work. Parenthood takes work. Apostolic endeavors require constant patience and virtue. Housekeeping takes...something (I can't even go there right now, although I'm sure virtue has something to do with it!). Every day presents new opportunities to learn a new step, to perfect my art in this perpetual and ever exciting dance that is my life. An artist is never finished learning. But I am not the main artist. There is a bigger and better Artist that sees the finished dance far clearer than I can. He sees it and He loves it, for He choreographed it! I pray that I will not disappoint my Choreographer, but that I will dance, and rise, and rise again, until graceful step by step the dance of my life is complete, and (I pray) just as beautiful as He intended. If I disappoint, or think my own ideas are better, He will make adjustments, but the final dance won’t (can't) be as beautiful as was originally envisioned. He is there to pick me back up, to encourage me on, to tell me when I need to rest, and to help me work when I am weak. He is patiently there...whenever I seek Him.

The best part? He loves my dance. He is not critical of me, nor does he desire to change me into someone else. He is forever intimately and deeply in love with me. How could I not seek to please this patient and loving Creator?

And so, now I dance not for an audience, nor for any human person, but for my amazing Creator. I dance with joy, with abandon, with power, and emotion. Every moment, of every day.

My oldest asked me the other day if I miss being a dancer. I told her that I never stopped. Inquisitively, she looked at me. I told her the best decision I ever made was quitting the dance career so I could start a family, and that my life now is the best dance of all, and I am loving every single moment.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Savoring moments

In one day there are billions of moments. Moments that develop in real time, and moments that are never allowed to develop because we squash them before they can grow. With 3 young children in our house, A LOT of moments, or opportunities, rather, come about. Opportunities for quality time, for affection, for personal attention.

How rare is personal attention these days? How often do you talk to someone, and they look you in the eye (if at all) for but a moment before they peak at their cell phone to text someone. How busy we have gotten in our daily life that the PERSON (especially those little ones that matter the most) is overlooked. Is ignored. Or...worse, is pushed aside with a "uh huh" from you, eyes on your computer, mind elsewhere. I say this is worse because you respond as if you care, but the very smart child knows when he's the less important factor.

Now anyone who has children knows that children have a billion brilliant ideas every day. But listen (and even engage) to just one, and watch their eyes light up before you, an energy seeps through every fiber of their being. They are filled up with the satisfaction of knowing that they matter. And furthermore, that their ideas matter (even if they seem silly and insignificant to us). And even more than that, they have the inner confirmation that they, too, are capable of thinking, processing, planning, and executing (something they see is valuable in our society, and natural to their human person). I will insert a small disclaimer here that I am not declaring that every child's spoken idea should be acted upon. Its simply not possible, or realistic. But I do believe that a child's spoken idea should at least be considered, reflected upon, or even given an interested nod of "wow, you're excited about this" (regardless if you can't act on it now). There is a balance, because its good for our kids to learn that the family has needs, and everyone has to be considered. But...lets be honest. More often than not, I, for one, tend to the side of thinking more of the inconvenience something causes me, than the learning that could potentially happen in the meantime. And so...

I have been keenly aware of these such moments lately. The moments when an idea is burst out, with affirmative tone, so sure that it is bound to be something mom and dad will see as a "good" idea. So the question is: does that moment become a passing failed opportunity, undeveloped, and leave the child feeling inadequate...or does it evolve into a collection of moments worth savoring?

This was our "savored moment" yesterday. The room became dark as the storm clouds rolled overhead, and thunder roared loudly. Knowing that the kids have been afraid of such storms lately, I announced with as much excitement as I could muster, "Hey, lets have a tea party guys!" Now I must admit that the excited tone I took was somewhat forced. You see, I had had a long day and was exhausted (what day am I NOT exhausted by 6pm? What day am I not exhausted by 2pm, for that matter?). I was quite proud of myself for even suggesting a tea party under those circumstances. I thought to myself, "we'll keep is simple. No china, no snacks, just some tea." And of course, as I'm learning the kids always do, I was immediately challenged to expand on that moment. My oldest, 5 and 1/2, jumped up and down and squeeled, "I KNOW! LET'S HAVE A TEA PARTY IN THE CAMPING TENT IN OUR LIVING ROOM WITH COOKIES AND MINT TEA AND FANCY TEA SET!"
My immediate internal reaction was to think, Oh no, I don't feel like setting that old thing up. That's too much work (really, its not). I'm too exhausted (aren't I always?). What have I started? That will be so messy, how will I keep things from breaking? I don't like tight spaces...how will we all fit?

I remembered that I've been wanting to seize more moments like this and stop waiting until I'm "not exhausted"- because that won't happen until my kids are grown and its too late. Then, almost through my teeth I forced a "yes, let's do that."

What henceforth transpired was a delightful, not too messy, very creative and fun family tea party...in a small tent...in our living room. Nothing broke, nothing (much) spilled. And as for feeling cramped? I looked at my husband and he looked at me, and without words we said to each other, "THIS is our family, THIS is our life, THIS is totally worth it. Breath it in. Savor it. Someday it will be gone"

Someday our empty house will ache and beg to have young kids in it once again, teaching us to seize and savor these very precious, and ever fleeting moments in time.

In this moment, we...lived.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

I will not forget you

Dear Soldier,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. I cannot express, adequately, what a complete misfortune it is to hear of your struggles on your home turf. Here you are, fresh from fighting for MY safety, finally home...and unemployed. When did Americans become so ungrateful for what you do that we cannot even offer you a job after your time of service is at an end? Does your skill, expertise, and intense training in the military mean nothing anymore? My heart aches when I imagine how this must make you feel. You literally signed your life over to a cause, a very noble cause, to defend a country you believed in. You left your friends and loved ones, parents, brothers, wives, children, to endure intense training. You spent time overseas in battle more horrific than most people want to believe. Why? So that us here at home can LIVE.

I want to express my heartfelt and deepest appreciation for your service. Because of you, I am able to live a quite peaceful and safe life at home with my family. Because of you, I do not live in constant fear of walking out my door. Because of you, we can live. You have laid your life on the line time and time again. My, what love that is! To lay one's life down for a stranger! I am forever and deeply grateful.

And yet, after all of that, your time comes to an end and then...nothing. You search for a civilian job, but can't find one. There is barely any value for the knowledge and expertise of your previous life. What was noble and valuable then, doesn't matter anymore. And no one seems to care. You fought for our life here, to come home to a life where you cannot provide for your family...where you are denied the basic human right of WORK.

I am so sorry.

In return, though it seems to meager, I offer you 4 things: 1) I will pray for you and for your family. 2) When I meet you or any veteran I will make sure we do not part ways without you feeling every ounce of my gratitude for your service. I will also express gratitude to the current military when I see them. 3) I will teach my children about the REAL LIFE super-heroes that are our military. 4) I will teach my children the pledge of allegiance (never mind that some 90% of illegal immigrants, who are seeking immigration, haven't even bothered to learn it themselves- they want to join our country, they use our colleges, benefit from our taxes, but don't know the pledge? This is a great misfortune for our country). I will teach them to honor and respect those men and woman who courageously and unselfishly laid their lives on the line, and who many lost their lives, so that we can have a comfortable life here.

Has everyone forgotten that there is still a war? That people's husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, are losing their lives EVERY DAY still so that we can have our comfortable life here?

I have not forgotten. From the very bottom of my heart, I thank you for your service, your courage, your self-sacrifice. I am so proud of you.

Yours,
Jessica Ferrante
Just a US Citizen whose life you saved.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Rascal of a Baby

I have many ideas for a blog post swarming...but no time to write. Very quickly, though- pray for the 3 year old who had the surgeries...her recovery is progressing slowly but surely, but there may be more to her issues than we thought.

In the meantime, here's a laugh from my darling 1 year old:)

"Aw, Mom! Why'd you take that marker away? I was creating ART!"





"HeHe! I'm so proud of myself, catch me if you can!"