Paul writes about being bent, but not broken, perplexed, but not without hope. We’re certainly living in times that perplex us as well as frighten us in some ways. First, we’re scared to fly. Next, we hesitate to open our mail unless we’re POSITIVE that someone we know and trust sent the letter.

I hear some Christians reacting to these things in a very similar way to others who don’t know Jesus. I confess to having some of these same feelings at times myself. I know the old cliché, “I read the last chapter, and in the end, WE WIN!” However, even though we may believe that in our heads, and express it with our mouth, it doesn’t keep us from sometimes dealing with apprehension and fear.

Well, let me share an experience I had yesterday. Please keep in mind that this piece this week may seem awfully short, simplistic, and even a tad silly. I left our home and headed to the highway. As I turned a corner, I came across four youngsters, all blond headed, holding hands and dancing on a street corner. They appeared to be about six years old. They were raising and lowering their arms together as if they were dancing to music I couldn’t hear. I wanted very much to stop and ask them what caused them to dance, giggle, and laugh, but thought better of the idea. I didn’t want to be surrounded by the local deputies!

It’s hard to fully explain to anyone why seeing them was such an encouragement to me. They’re children. They’re possibly naive. They’re certainly not carrying the burdens of our current societal problems (although they may well have moments of fear sometimes as they overhear the news).

Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be for children? They seem to have been born with some kind of optimism gene. Maybe they believe that mommy and daddy wouldn’t let any bad things happen to them. Maybe they just “know” that if something goes wrong, someone will fix it.

For some reason, my spirits lifted and my outlook brightened. Maybe I don’t get to go back to childhood often enough. The trip back was great. I recommend it for you.

Oh, yes, the title of this week’s piece. Well, not long after my first wife, my children’s bio Mom, died, we were in a bit of funk (understatement). It was right before Thanksgiving, so the holidays were pretty bleak. One day, son Mark, grabbed a kitchen broom and began to dance around the kitchen. He did it, according to him, to make us smile and lift our spirits. Yea, Mark. He was 13 and not a child, technically, but his childlike attempt to wipe away our tears, even for a little while, will never leave my memory. The Dance of Joy!!!

I’d love to hear some of your experiences and reflections on this subject. Just use the “Leave a Reply” box below!

– WOW, Jerry, you never cease to take me back to my childhood with memories. My neighborhood, when I was a little one, had all the streets paved with bricks. It makes me think of how much work was put into laying them like that. It’s kind of sad just to pave over them. I would love to see them like that again. So sad to see all that hard work just modernized with asphalt. Thanks as usual for the memories.

– Sidewalks in the city I work in are brick. But, we have something here called frost heave!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The pretty bricks are like a rollercoaster ride, plus become slippery when icy for those of us who have difficulty walking as well as for those who have to rely on wheels (wheelchairs) to get around. They are a hazard. Remember: One person’s path can be another’s stumbling block!!

– WOW!!! What a wonderful story about the “bricks” and “D” tearing down the walls and making a path out of them. That’s GOOD STUFF!!!

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