I’ve told you before that I wanted to learn to dance. My momma and daddy could tear up the floor dancing, and one of my fondest dreams was to be able to do that. If William hadn’t ruined it for me in the 6th grade, I’d already be there. My problem is that I’m too self-conscious on a dance floor, thanks to his remarks!

My Sweet Spousal Unit and I had won dance lessons at an auction last fall. Because of my busy work schedule, we had not been able to take the lessons until last month, but we finally got the chance and learned to do a passable Texas Shuffle.

Now, our dance teacher told us that we have good rhythm, but I knew we needed to relax. We both hold our mouths funny while we dance, because we are counting the steps. I admit that I have a little bit of trouble with the twirling, and never end the twirl right where I’m supposed to be.

Even with that, we felt confident enough to go dancing with friends last Saturday night. What a wonderful feeling to be shuffling across the floor in the arms of my fella!

Our dance teacher was there, and she is a joy to watch. She’s so graceful as she glides across the floor and she makes it look so easy! She gives me hope, because she said she didn’t learn to dance until she was in her thirties! She had to overcome her Southern Baptist upbringing, you see. My Mamaw was Southern Baptist, so I understand that it was a huge obstacle.

As much as I enjoy watching Cathy dance, though, I had to admit that the best dancer on the floor was Sam. Any dancer who partnered with Sam was an excellent dancer, too. Though sometimes they seemed to be dancing a traditional shuffle or waltz, most often the dancing looked like the “boogie woogie” dancing that my parents did. I was enthralled watching the Boot Scootin’ Boogie.

Then, Sam asked me to dance! I jumped at the chance, but said, “Sam, I can’t figure out the steps you are doing!”

The reply I got shook my world. “ Don’t worry about steps. I don’t follow any particular rules. I like to walk for a minute before I dance. Close your eyes and listen to the music. Feel the beat. Then, we’ll just move with the rhythm.”

I tell you what, people! By the time we had danced through two songs, I was twirling across the floor and looked like I had been dancing all my life. My husband looked at me with a forlorn expression and said, “You looked good when you were dancing with Sam.”

So I grabbed his hand and dragged him out on the dance floor. I told him, “Let’s just move with the rhythm.” Before you know it, he loosened up. My SSU and I were whirling and twirling across the floor in a pretty good imitation of the dancing my parents did.

As I think about Sam’s words, I realize that perhaps I’ve just gotten the answer I was seeking when I asked y’all to help me find life’s balance. Maybe life isn’t about following certain steps? Maybe, just maybe, I need to close my eyes and “listen to the music.” Then, I can just move with the rhythm.