Don't forget to dance

No matter what time I wake up, there is a furry face with dark hungry eyes two inches from my yawning face. As soon as I show any sign of conscious life, she begins to wag her tail and perk her ears, then gallop in the direction of the food bowl. I always trudge off to the bathroom instead, clothes in hand, and when I emerge, she is still there. Still wagging, still bright eyed, still expectant.

This is how I should greet each day! I should be lunging forward into the fray with joy, with anticipation, with delight for each moment of existence I have been granted. My glee at the dawn of new opportunities, new possibilities should make me prance and twirl as I gallop delightedly to my breakfast.

I am sorry to say I don't. I don't seem to prance as often as I did when I was young. For one thing, I think there is the very real chance that prancing would lead to ripped muscles or snapped Achilles tendons in my aging body. For another, as soon as I commenced prancing, I would think of all the anti-prancing aspects of my life.

I recently heard the words of the song by the group Kinks again, "Don't forget to dance." It reminded me of how joy should define all existence. After all, God is waiting there for me just as eagerly as Honeybun each morning, but rather than demanding a feast, He is offering one.

 Don't Forget to Dance.

You look out of your window,
Into the night.
Could be rain, could be snow,
But it can't feel as cold as you're feeling inside.

And all of you friends are either married, vanished,
Or just left alone.
But that's no reason to just stop living.
That's no excuse to just give in to a sad and lonely heart.

Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to smile.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.

'Cause darling, darling,
I bet you danced a good one in your time.
And if this were a party
I'd really make sure the next one would be mine.
Yes, you with the broken heart.

Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to smile.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.

Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.

You walk down the street
And all the young punks whistle at you.
A nice bit of old,
Just goes to show what you can achieve
with the right attitude.
As you pass them by
They whisper their remarks one to another,
And you give them the eye
Even that you know that you could be their mother.
You do the thing you love the most.
What separates you from the rest,
And what you love to do the most?
And when they ask me how you dance,
I say that you dance real close.

Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to dance. 

 

Jeremiah 31:

¹² They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion;
   they will rejoice in the bounty of the LORD—
the grain, the new wine and the olive oil,
   the young of the flocks and herds.
They will be like a well-watered garden,
   and they will sorrow no more.
¹³ Then young women will dance and be glad,
   young men and old as well.
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
   I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.