The night a wallflower learned to dance

I want so badly to get this post right, and I can’t seem to, so I’m just gonna spill it and hope someone will be encouraged by it.  

I’ve always been a bit of a wallflower.  By definition - “a person who from shyness or unpopularity remains on the sidelines of a social activity (such as a dance)”  Yep – that’s me.  Like, literally EVERY WORD.  

I mean, I love watching other people dance.  But the thought that I might be caught under the spotlight is absolutely TERRIFYING…. I do not have a coordinated bone in my body.  I can kick a soccer ball all day long, but when it comes to dancing, my hips and my creativity are literal sticks in the mud. 

So this last weekend, when we received the schedule for our upcoming family retreat that included a date night of “salsa dancing” with 30 other couples, needless to say I was less than enthused.  Mortified would be more like it.  The level of anxiety this caused for me is actually embarrassing.  It took me right back to one of our first dates when I hid in the bathroom for over an hour because, well…..  karaoke.  

I’ve grown in a lot of ways over our 19 years of marriage, but social anxiety is not one of them.  So here I was, dreading what was supposed to be a fun activity for both of us.  I agreed that I needed to get out of my comfort zone and at least enter the space where dancing would take place.  But Rob knew the possibility of my early exit from our evening was very real. 

We headed towards the dining hall, sat down for dinner, and enjoyed our conversation.  Then came the moment where the music changed.  The guys took to the dance floor and casually invited their wives to join them in freestyle.  I very awkwardly went and stood next to my husband, not having a clue what to do with any of my body parts.  I think Rob sensed my unease, so we slowly bowed out, and backed up into the corner of the room to “just watch.”  

After the first song, the salsa instructor came to the middle of the room and introduced himself.  He then split up the guys and the girls into two lines facing each other and told us he would teach us one step at a time.  I thought to myself, “Ok, if someone is showing me one step at a time what to do, I guess I can try.”  Still reluctant, and insecure, but didn’t want to leave my husband without a partner, so I gave in.  

So here we are standing across from each other, watching as the instructor is modeling the first steps.  And there’s my husband and that grin.  You see, he’s never forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do, but his smile has a way of sucking me in even when I’m reserved.   His playfulness has a way of making me laugh and forgetting about my fear.

Twenty feet apart, we learned three simple steps.  Then came the time to come together and try it in tandem.  It wasn’t so bad when we were just counting to 6, but then when we tried it with the music, it was a bit of a mess. I was all over the place.  Stepping with the wrong feet, stepping ON Rob’s feet, going all the wrong ways.  And by the way, salsa is supposed to have some hip action, some bending of the knees, some fluidity.  But as earlier mentioned…… there’s me….. stick in the mud. 

But my husband did not give up on me.  He just kept leading me.  Y’all.  I was so bad at it.  Until I wasn’t.  It was so awkward.  Until it wasn’t.  It was so out of my comfort zone.  Until it wasn’t. 

We just kept dancing.  Before I knew it, I found myself having fun.  Suddenly I had forgotten everyone around me and was enjoying just being with Rob.  I realized later, that’s probably the most fun I’ve had in a long time.  Suddenly I had lost the insecurity and been found by joy.

So……. Why am I telling you this story?  Why choose to share publicly such an intimate moment? 

Because I believe God designed marriage to be a small picture of His love for us.  I have learned more about Jesus from my husband this last year than I have from anyone or anything else. 

This has been such a hard year for me personally.  Several months ago, I had my first major panic attack, quit my job, and began a season of healing and rediscovery.  My body and my mind are not as strong as they once were and this has been a hard realization.  Not even 24 hours before our salsa date, I had a second major panic attack that landed me in the Emergency Room at 1:00 in the morning.  All the while, my husband by my side, not knowing how best to support me, but sticking with me regardless.  

Interestingly enough, if you google the word “wallflower,” wikipedia will quickly provide you information on social anxiety and panic attacks as well.    You see wallflowers are not evergreens.  They only bloom in seasons.  With delicate roots, they can be very difficult to transplant.  If moved hastily, or taken out of their comfort zone too quickly, they simply wither.  I often wonder if I’m even a flower at all and feel much more like a weed.

BUT…….   These last several months, my husband has celebrated me and has let me bloom on the wall.  He’s never pushed me, just pursued me with his patience.  He has known my fears and and respected my boundaries, but also encouraged my growth.    The times where I have been least deserving, he has served me and led me and waited for me to come out of the shadows.  

And the thing is, I’ve always wanted to learn to how to dance.  I would love to learn to throw off my insecurities and live in the freedom and joy that Christ brings.  I’m just really bad at it.  More of a legalistic stick in the mud most days.  I miss the steps.  I forget.  I lose my way.  But my Jesus is so patient with me.  He just keeps holding my hand, leading me.  He just keeps smiling over me and when I look at His face, nothing else seems to matter.