I love watching Little Bear dance.
There is no inhabitation.
No worry of technique or style. He hears the music and
moves. He openly displays all the bliss in his little heart. The beat of the
drums is demonstrated in the rhythm of his feet. The freedom from critique of
others, his arms lift and wave with the melodies.
The squeals of laughter and giggles of delight can’t even
capture the full joy expressed on his face. The innocence of feeling the music
and letting it sweep him away in the glory of its goodness.
We didn’t teach him to dance; he has done it since day one.
I remember him kicking away in my tummy to the music. It’s just there. That
desire. I tried to articulate to Doc, how amazed I was at this, and how it
really is that we instinctively, at our core, are called to dance.
Doc thought a moment.
“No.” He said. “To worship”
