When the clock strikes midnight, it’s time to get home.
But what we learn at the ball tonight, we need to make known.
Life’s not a party.
It’s more of a dance.
And thankfully, none of it is left to chance.
There IS an Orchestrator.
He chooses the songs - He handles the beat.
We simply decide what to do with our feet.
For now, we sit at our table, content in our seats.
We watch all the people.
We converse.
Laugh.
And Repeat.
In walks Joy. (We all knew she was invited.)
Her presence alone makes everyone excited.
She’s an old friend, a sweet soul we all know.
She goes straight to the dance floor and (of course) steals the show.
Then suddenly, Joy steps off to the side.
It seems that something threw her off her stride.
It was him.
Everything changed when he entered in.
A sloppy, stinking young man walked through the door.
(People wonder if he’s ever been here before.)
With dirty clothes and disheveled hair,
all of the people begin to stare.
Was he invited?
Is it a mistake?
(Surely, there’s not a seat for him to take.)
We reckon he has to be here by chance.
We assume he doesn’t even know how to dance.
He saunters by the tables, the food, the hellos.
(Who is this guy? We really want to know.)
He knows what he’s here for (by his own admission),
He heads straight for the dance floor.
(Though we all have our suspicions.)
Will he know the beat, the steps, the dance, the song?
(Somehow, all of this just seems wrong.)
The key changed to minor,
the music grew slow.
The Orchestrator seemed to know him…
He gave him the nod to go!
As everyone watched this man-not-intact,
He took charge of that dance floor and stuck-it-to-the-mat.
When he danced, no one quite knew what to say.
There weren’t words to put to his performance,
just a sense that he was here to stay.
When this man’s solo act was done,
we surprisingly overhear someone calling him, “Son.”
We assume we must have overheard wrong,
but then everything was confirmed with the next couple of songs.
Oh! In all the commotion, I forgot to mention:
More guests arrived, it’s like they were all family-by-extension.
New faces in the crowd,
Not friends -yet- not foes.
Why they’re all here? nobody knows.
On the dance floor, the unknown guests began taking turns.
All of their names were soon to be learned.
There’s
Denial.
then, Anger.
And Sadness.
And Relief.
And then, goodness gracious, there comes…
Grief.
(But nobody talks to him, what a thief!)
And then we look over, and what do we see?
Something we thought wasn’t a possibility.
It’s the first sloven man
Walking over to Joy
SHE asks for the next dance,
He nods “yes” like a shy little boy.
She knows he can dance, but doesn’t know if SHE should
dance in his songs,
She would if HE could.
Joy dances with him (though he physically stinks).
She doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks.
As they continue together, the people all rise.
Smiles still on faces, but tears brimming eyes.
The music changes.
It quickens in pace.
It crescendos and crashes.
As tears begin streaming down everyone’s face.
Seeing them dance together is hard to watch, no doubt.
What else should we do?
Should we cheer?
Should we shout?
But this one thing we know,
we can’t look away.
Something inside us says, “It’s meant to be this way.”
We soon realize - much to our surprise -
The answer is unfolding right before our eyes.
This unlikely pair can’t just stick to their own tunes.
They relate to one another, as we’ll understand more soon.
Minor notes in major keys
“Accidentals,” or so they seem.
It’s all so bizarre, like a mixed-up dream.
But somehow…
It’s almost like they belong,
dancing together in the SAME song.
Like a beginning piano player gone wrong,
together, they are writing a brand new song.
The steps to this new dance are hard to navigate.
Contemplate?
Articulate?
Celebrate?
Hibernate??
As the music comes to an end,
people begin to wipe their tears.
They pick up conversations
with friends they’ve known for years.
Joy walks over to our table to explain,
“I know that boy. I gave him his name.”
As the man walks over to approach our table,
Joy speaks up to reveal (as she is able).
“I have someone I want you all to know.
This is my son. His name is Sorrow.”
As she speaks, we all begin to think,
What in the world is that awful stink?
And who (of all people!) thought that they’d be related?
It seems all Joy stood for, Sorrow negated.
Our thoughts are interrupted by a new voice.
“Joy, you’ve done well. You made a good choice.”
The unfamiliar voice goes on to tell us a lot
“When Sorrow was born and a small little tot,
He was born lame, like it or not.
The boy could not walk, let alone dance.
But sweet Joy decided to give him a chance.”
“Joy taught him how to dance, day after day.”
The voice then turned to the man to say,
“You danced well tonight, dear. You danced like your dad.”
Just the mention of him somehow made Sorrow more sad.
(Sorrow’s dad - like his mom Joy - could dance like a boss.)
The voice then reveals, “Sorrow’s dad’s name was Loss.”
Joy interjected as only she could,
“Seems like just yesterday, but Loss has been gone for a while…”
Continuing aloud (and wondering if she should),
“...Traces of Loss are still seen in Sorrow’s smile.”
As all of our gazes follow Joy’s into the distance,
Someone’s asking Sorrow to dance, and it’s met with some resistance.
“Who else wants to dance with him?” we all think.
“Who could handle all his stink?”
“Wait. Who is she?” Then we see a face.
“Oh, we all know her. Her name is Grace.”
Sorrow, face flushed and red,
Says he would rather hold Grace’s hand instead.
Grace, understanding, holds his hand for a while.
(She gets it. Her dance is a different style.)
Grace is patient as Sorrow grows up to be a man,
She’s thankful just to be there, holding his hand.
But a day will come, (this I know to be true,)
when Grace will teach Sorrow how to dance anew.
We may not see it right now;
(it’s the last song of the night.)
But one day, somehow,
you’ll see I’m right.
—---
Years from now, we’ll bump into them, not believing what we see.
Grace and Sorrow sitting at a table with their family now of 3.
It’s clear to us that Sorrow joined Grace in a dance or two.
Their dances quickly turned to romance (as they so often do).
And through the years, the tears, the smiles, (a mix of unpredictable, normal, and wild),
Grace and Sorrow gave birth to a lovely child.
As we walk together on our way,
you lean to me and say,
“What is the name of the child of Grace and Sorrow?”
And I’ll reply, most assuredly, I overheard it was “A New Tomorrow.”
And that’s when, my friend, you’ll come to understand,
Everything - the people, the timing, the dance -
was a part of the Plan,
Nothing happens by chance.
—---
So I wonder, sweet friend,
What will you do?
When one of these dance partners comes looking for you?
Life’s not a party.
It’s more of a dance.
And thankfully, none of it is left to chance.
There IS an Orchestrator.
He chooses the songs - He handles the beat.
We simply decide what to do with our feet.
