my body is likely quite angry with me

For all of my life that I can recall, I've had music in my bones. I remember taking ballet, tap, and jazz lessons at the YMCA, being part of a drill team (Shades of Plaid, anyone?) in fifth grade, starting piano lessons at age 7, performing with the Lewisville Children's Choir in 1994 and 95, traveling with the Crosstimbers Baptist Puppet Team in junior high (That's right. It was cool. I even received national recognition! Beat that.), dancing and singing onstage in Lamar Middle and Marcus High School choirs, taking part in swing dance lessons with Jay, Grant, Diana and Lindsey, and even learning guitar thanks to dear Tina (my great teacher, Mr. T!). The list goes on really, with dozens of miscellaneous activities peppering my life to this point.
I think now might be a good moment for a disclaimer. I don't profess to be great at any of these things, not even good, actually. But I believe I can state, without any scientific evidence needed, that the cells in my blood are made up of half notes, rests, and accidentals (sharps and flats, for those lacking recent theory lessons). Music is in my bones, in my blood, in my brain. And what sometimes frustrates me the most is that I've never really been great at anything involving that which gives me such energy and life. Okay, my parents will probably protest that I'm being too hard on myself, so I'll clarify. You know when someone is good enough at something that it sort of makes up who they are? Like my sister...among many things that she is (all wonderful, of course) she is a soccer player. My John is known for his skill on guitar and mandolin. My brother is an artist. My college roomie is an outstanding public speaker. My best friend (okay, two of them) has the voice of a heavenly being. These are things by which we characterize our friends. But I couldn't call myself a talented musician or performer in any way. That's just not what my success in life will be. (In case you're looking for further revelation in that regard, I'm sorry. I actually don't know what is to be my success in life. Not yet.)

So...Pam, where are you going with all of this?

I was watching Dancing with the Stars tonight. I haven't seen any of it. Either season. But tonight they caught me up on the three remaining couples. Two hours, minus commercials (Thank you, TIVO), of speechless excitement. It wasn't noiseless excitement, mind you, but the sounds coming from my mouth didn't resemble speech. I had so much fun!! Watching people be thrilled by their hard work and the joy that it is to dance and perform was exhilarating. I was moved to jumping in my seat, eager applause, and the occasional tear. And it's times like this that I am talking to God. "I know you've got something planned for me. But please, maybe someday, could I have a bit more talent in dance/singing/music?" I've always felt like I was one step from being decent. And it's a tough place to be when music could truly burst from my body, but I don't feel that I adequately and respectfully express something that touches me so deeply. I'd like to be good. I'd like to feel that I do justice to that which enlightens me. In the meantime, I'd like to keep working at it. I'd like to dance again. I'd like to think I could recover my singing voice. I'm acquiring my brother-in-law's piano in order to dust off an old habit. I'd like to re-learn guitar or pick up the viola. But someday, I'd really like to just be shameless. I'd like to bust out in church and not care who's listening. I'd like to go crazy at the next wedding reception and ignore everything around me. I'd like to sing in my car when I have passengers. Because until I do that, this music in my bones will never be released. It will fester and rot and someday atrophy like an unused muscle. And then my body would truly be angry with me. And it's just not doing the Lord justice with the creation He adores.

that my heart may sing to you and NOT BE SILENT.
O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever
Psalm 30:12