Dancing through Fields of Grace

As a kid I loved to dance.  I twirled like a ballerina in the parlor.  My BFF Patty and I would link arms and kick on the front lawn like Rockettes.   I could sashay with the best at a “Grand March.” (FYI: a godly square dance at a social in the church rec room.)  And alone in my bedroom, I would waltz  to the Champaign music of Lawrence Welk in the arms of my imaginary sweetheart.

Where did all that grace go?  If I tried those moves today my feet would twist into deformed pretzels and I’d be traction for a month or more.  Yet, somewhere in my scrapbook of memories I find snap shots of that mopsy, brown-eyed girl, with her  ripped crinolines dangling below her skirt; and scabs on her elbows and knees dancing through a field of clover.

And while I daren’t “cut a rug” as my mother used to say,  my dancing is more a memory.  My God and I dance through fields of grace every day.  I can feel His arms about my waist.  I can sense gentle droplets of forgiveness splashing on my face and heart.  I can almost hear Him humming, “You are so beautiful to me…”.

My God loves dancing through fields of grace with me.  And boy, do I need a hefty dose every single day!   How about you?  If you’re not dancing with the Father through the fields of grace in your life consider what you may be missing.

 

 

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