My daughter, McKenzie, loves to dance. She loves to watch it, do it, talk about it . . . well, that last one doesn’t count since she loves to talk about anything. But you get the point. This passion is purely within her. She takes no formal dance classes, and benefits only from the kind encouragement of a talented friend who helps her along from time to time.
So completely on her own, she choreographed the dance below, a dance that would lead to one of the greatest lessons of faith I’ve ever been taught. The story is below the video. So read and watch, or watch and read. I’ll let you decide.
Ten-year-olds are notorious for dreaming up big plans, setting their hearts on them, but never allowing their brains in on the planning. This was my fear when McKenzie shared with me that she was choreographing a dance for her upcoming Chorus Christmas Concert.
“Oh, has the teacher asked you to dance?” I asked.
“No. Not yet. But I’m going to show it to her when I’m finished. If she likes it, maybe she add it in.”
“Now wait a minute,” says Papa Bear. “You do understand that she might not be able to’add it in’ even if she likes it, right? I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“Sure, Dad. I know. Don’t worry. It’s just something fun.”
This something fun turned into hours of work, internet research (she wanted to include sign language), and lots of practice. I was terrified that she was in for the biggest disappointment of her short life.
I know, I know. Oh ye of little faith. The teacher loved it, added it in, and made me feel about three inches tall. But that’s only the beginning of the story.
Two weeks before the concert, McKenzie was stepping out of our van, something she does between 1 and 5 times every day. But this time, something went wrong. In a split second, her ankle twisted, her knee buckled, and her heart broke. After a visit to the doctor, we confirmed the diagnoses as a sprained ankle, bought a pair of cruthes, and proceeded to try and explain to our daughter how God could allow this to happen after she had worked so hard and had come so far. There were many tears, most of them mine.
But she’s a trooper, our McKenzie. She resigned herself to the fact that God’s will is perfect. She told me that while our prayers might not always yield the results for which we hope, we should still pray all the same. After all, she said, we don’t always know His will, so just to be sure . . . (I love that kid.)
I was thinking about her comments last Thursday night, the night for which the concert was scheduled. That’s when I saw it, a snow flake. A big, fat, wet snowflake. And it had friends. Lots of them. By the time I had made it home the ground was covered and the concert was postponed five days. As it turns out, that’s just enough time for an ankle to finish healing. More importantly, it was more than enough time for my daughter see just how far God is willing to go to answer a little girl’s prayer.
And so she danced. Perhaps this was the first of many such performances to come. But I dare say that none of them will come with a greater sense of knowing just how loved she is by her Creator. What peace there is in that knowledge. And how fitting that the title of the song to which she danced is “Song of Peace.”
You go, KK.