Last Dance

It was January 31, 2011. This was a special day because it was my dad’s 74th birthday. My daughter and I pulled up in front of the nursing home. It was a cold brisk winter day, but Lake Crossing was warm and inviting with its beautiful trees and white wooden rocking chairs on the front porch. As we walked inside, everybody was busily getting ready for the afternoon’s festivities as today they would be celebrating all of the birthdays for the month of January.



We found my dad in his room sitting on his bed dressed nicely in dress slacks and a polo shirt. I took a moment to reflect on how the Alzheimer’s had aged him, yet it had made him child like. He looked up and said, “Hey, look who’s here!” I was blessed that he still recognized my daughter and me.

Lady J ran to his arms and they shared a bear hug. “Happy Birthday, Grandpa!” she exclaimed. I followed with a hug of my own. “Look dad, I brought your dancing shoes,” I said. He looked at them puzzled, but put them on. Lady J took him by the hand and led him gently to the recreation room where the other residents and staff were gathered for the birthday celebration.


A wide circle had been cleared in the middle of the room. I led my dad to the center of all the people watching. I tenderly placed his left hand at my waist, and placed my left hand upon his shoulder, and then I took his right hand in mine. The CD I had chosen began to play. The song was “Lollipop, Lollipop” and the tempo was strong yet moderate. At first my dad looked at me and said, “I don’t know what to do, “so I started to lead.

I started with two side steps, then a triple step back. Within moments there was a sparkle in my dad’s eyes and he began to lead. There were spins, turns, and slides. He didn’t miss a beat, but the best part was the smile on his face. When the song finished we did a big spin out for a grand finale and everyone clapped and cheered.


Breathless, I hugged my dad. Lady J jumped up and down with joy from watching the dance with her mom and her grandpa. After the celebration, she got to dance with her grandpa in his room. The sparkle remained in his eyes even though he said little the rest of the day. That was the last time I danced with my dad. He passed away on April 10, 2011, but the memory of that day will live with me forever.

Dancing en Pointe - Strengthening our Hearts, Bodies & Souls

Some girls during their younger years take ballet lessons. During that time, it seems like every lesson is the same thing, day after day....and to some it may seem repetitious and even boring. Some aspire to become ballerinas, perhaps to become the ultimate prima ballerina. To do this a girl practices to dance en pointe, or upon her toes. To dance en pointe a ballerina must have balance and use the entire body for support. A ballerina seems to dance across the stage with delicate grace and beauty, seeming to float effortlessly like a butterfly lightly touching her toes upon the surface. Truth be told, this is only accomplished after years of pain and suffering. Underneath the beautifully laced slipper reveals feet that are scarred, bruised and calloused.

When my daughter was diagnosed with her disabilities, many people would tell me that Heavenly Father sent her to me because He knew I would be the best mother for her. Now, when I envisioned these "Special" mothers, I pictured women with the patience of saints who never raised their voices. I also pictured these women to be calm, always cheerful, heads held high and their feet lightly touching the ground as they effortlessly guided these angels from God through life.

Fortunately, someone sent me the following article by one of my favorite authors, Erma Bombeck.....

The Special Mother

by Erma Bombeck

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures and a couple by habit.

This year nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen?

Somehow I visualize God hovering over earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As He observes, He instructs His angels to make notes in a giant ledger.

"Armstrong, Beth; son. Patron saint...give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."

"Forrest, Marjorie; daughter. Patron saint, Cecelia."

"Rutledge, Carrie; twins. Patron saint, Matthew."

Finally He passes a name to an angel and smiles, "Give her a handicapped child."

The angel is curious. "Why this one God? She's so happy."

"Exactly," smiles God, "Could I give a handicapped child to a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel."

"But has she patience?" asks the angel.

"I don't want her to have too much patience or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wears off, she'll handle it."

"I watched her today. She has that feeling of self and independence that is so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has her own world. She has to make her live in her world and that's not going to be easy."

"But, Lord, I don't think she even believes in you." God smiles, "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect - she has just enough selfishness." The angel gasps - "selfishness? is that a virtue?"

God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she'll never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn't realize it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a 'spoken word'". She will never consider a "step" ordinary. When her child says 'Momma' for the first time, she will be present at a miracle, and will know it!"

"I will permit her to see clearly the things I see...ignorance, cruelty, prejudice....and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life, because she is doing My work as surely as if she is here by My side".

"And what about her Patron saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in mid-air.

God smiles, "A mirror will suffice."

I have since learned that these other special mothers are also dancing en pointe and getting stronger with each step. Some days it is the same thing day in and day out. Some days we go to bed feeling bruised and blistered and a bit calloused.. Each day strengthens us, we are made stronger from the inside out as we reach out to have support and balance. As you unlace our hearts you will find a love that lifts us across the stage of life just as we feel the curtain might come down upon us. My slippers are worn, tattered and the laces are all but gone but my joy is full as I look upon my children.