“I could never do that.” – Braden’s dad

“Dad, it takes two to dance. It can be easy if you’ll just try, so take a lesson.” – Braden

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On a recent vacation, I began each day with a cup of coffee while people-watching from our balcony on a beach. Observing other human beings is an odd enjoyment most of us would admit. I’m uncertain as to the reason, but people-watching can sometimes be the best show in town.

Our little family of three had been on our daughter’s high school senior trip that week, but this would be our travel home day. As other early risers began to populate the empty shoreline, I noticed all the regulars. There were the early morning joggers, a group of souvenir peddlers setting up for the day’s tourists, and a yoga group worshiping their meditation time. The “lounge lizard” parents were hurriedly placing towels, caps, or goggles to claim their beach lounges for their families still sound asleep. After all, the early bird gets the umbrella. All these “regular” people were focused on their own little worlds, prepping for how and where they would invest their vacation days and dollars.

I was dreading the airport experience and the inevitable return to real life. I’ve always treasured vacation family time and as a dad with our last child soon leaving for adulthood, I often wish we had a slow motion button on life. Then, I noticed something I’d not seen all week long. The strange scene drew my attention and compelled me to stand and just stare. A man and woman were strolling together (staggering more like) alongside the gently rolling surf. Over the next few minutes, I was a one man audience to this awkward yet beautifully rhythmic dance. A performance I’d never seen or taken time to notice, yet this time I couldn’t look away. The memory remains etched in my mind.

The gentleman was walking to the right and slightly ahead of the woman. After four or five steps, he would stop, look back, and wait for her to join him. The lady was likely his spouse but it could have been his sister, or even a friend. She was severely impaired and struggling with each small step, aided by a walking stick in her left hand. The cane had been rigged to prevent sinking into the powdery beach sand. Feeling like a voyeur in this intimate moment, I watched the strangers from the time they came into view until they disappeared into the distance.

Walk. Stop. Wait…

Walk. Stop. Wait…

Walk. Stop. Wait.

This awkward, painful, beautifully choreographed dance had no music, but the rhythm was detectable in the hearts of these two dancers. As a distant observer, I could feel its beat from two hundred yards away. The man never once missed a single step… and he was smiling the whole time.

As I stood completely mesmerized, I wondered why such an awkward and painful dance could be so beautiful. Returning to my chair, it slowly began to make sense. This man’s unselfishness stood out starkly against those around him, including myself, who were self-absorbed. One part of me had wanted to wake my family, but the other half didn’t want them to see this dance. They would certainly want me to learn its steps, and I’m a terrible dancer. I could never be so patient, kind, or unselfish… or could I?

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I grew up water and snow skiing. Doing it from such an early age, it’s always been easy and natural. I tried teaching my family and Braden caught on pretty easily as a skateboarder. His sister, Caitlin is a gifted dancer and was also a quick study. My wife Cathy however, struggled the most.  All my explanations only went so far, and I still recall letting her go from my arms while helplessly watching her descend the treacherous bunny slope. Her speed steadily increased with no sign of braking.  I repeatedly yelled, “Pizza slice!!”. Unfortunately, she only stopped when she struck a sign which read in bright red letters, “SLOW DOWN!”.

After just one lesson with a capable instructor, Cathy was able to navigate and somewhat enjoy skiing. I asked her what finally made the difference and she replied, “You forgot to tell me the most important thing… Don’t be distracted by your skis. Just focus on where you want to go”. 

Readers: Life is a little like dancing, skiing, or anything we pursue improving. They can seem difficult until we choose to learn from our failures and remaining focused on where we want to go. The simplicity of this life dance only requires three basic steps, yet many of us find them difficult to take. The steps are: 1) placing ourselves in the shoes of those who are struggling; 2) caring enough to walk selflessly together; and 3) most importantly, staying the course.

This way of living not only helps the dancers, but those who want to learn the steps.

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PRAYER: Jesus, You came to this world to show us what true humility looks like. Thank You for Your kindness and grace. Help us to learn from Your example and through lessons You reveal in our lives. May our focus be on where we’re going rather than where we’re struggling, and our purpose be Your glory. Amen.

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“Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭2‬:‭4‬-‭5‬ ‭

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.”
‭‭1 John‬ ‭3‬:‭16‬‬‬