It’s an odd feeling, a strange phenomenon, to feel happy and then be attacked by grief. It sometimes seems that happiness is an elaborate subterfuge specifically designed to precipitate sneak attacks with greater precision and devastation. The higher the platform, the deeper the dive, right? It’s like being enamored of, purely captivated by the fireworks just before you realize, only seconds before the strike, that a bomb was deployed to your exact location when the beauty of the explosion was initiated.

Avoiding grief on the holidays is a delicate dance, an intricate tango with swift turns in opposite directions in order to keep tempo and still appear graceful. I’m learning how to keep step better this year. Left, right, quickstep, back left…no! right again! Maybe by next year I’ll have the muscle memory to complete the song without even having to count off the beats in my head.

I’m headed to my sister’s home for dinner today. That’s an even trickier scenario. Two people doing the same dance but to different music and yet on the same hardwood dance floor. You try not to skid and slip, to stay on your feet and not lose count, as you attempt to avoid colliding into the other dancers. This dance you tend to do while wearing vision-impeding masquerade masks 🎭 to hide the intensity and concentration clearly written all over your face in permanent marker.

Driving in my car, I felt God wrap His arms around me this morning. A physical sensation relaying a spiritual truth. I never dance alone. God only leads the dance when I stop trying to force my own direction. When I stop struggling with the counting of steps in my head, He effortlessly takes over with such a strong lead that I realize I didn’t even need to learn the dance myself because His hand at the curve of my back and the other in my own hand, they direct each step of mine without the need for forethought. I’ll never forget, not ever, that there are empty chairs at the table; those chairs won’t ever be filled even when new chairs are placed around the same table. I am overwhelmingly grateful that those empty chairs were, at one time, filled in my home.

I’m a terrible dancer…but He makes me graceful anyway. His grace has already been poured all over me and I’m saturated in it. Today will be okay. I have many reasons to dwell in the happiness. The bomb strike will not disintegrate me today because there is no shield like the One that stands before me.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all. 🍁