The Dance

Courageous. We don’t use that word much anymore.  We use it when we are talking about our men and women in the military.  We use it when people are fighting cancer.  But that’s about it. We just started a teaching series at Concord United Methodist Church called “Courageous” that is based on a film of the same name. 

The film is about four men who serve as police officers.  They are also friends and hang out in each other’s backyards on their days off.  They are courageous with villains, but not necessarily with their own loved ones.   And then something happens.  A tragedy hits home and something has to change. 

Isn’t that the way it usually goes?  Tragedy has to hit before many of us are willing to stand up and make something happen that should have happened long ago, but we were never quite at a crossroads that forced the change.  The sad thing is all that we miss prior to the change, prior to the tragedy.  Earlier in the film, one of the officers has an opportunity to dance with his young daughter. She hears a song and is filled with joy and silliness and just wants to express it with dance.  She asks her dad to join her but he is not interested.   She begs him but he seems embarrassed even at the thought. So he misses the opportunity… and eventually we find out he misses out on a lot more. 

I remember watching this moment in the film and thinking “been there, done that”.  My father left for another woman when I was two and my brother was three.  He had been in prison for several years when I was a bit older and wrote me a couple of times, but that was it.  When I was 13 and overdosed on alcohol before first hour had even let out, my mom called him and thought maybe I’d get my life back on track if he was around more often.  He came once and promised much, but then I never saw him again until more than 10 years later when he found out he had grandchildren.  We would see each other once a year or so after that for a few years… and then my divorce, and eventually a second chance at love and life, when I married my husband Darryl. 

I asked my father to walk me down the aisle.  He wasn’t around the first time so I had asked my brother that time.  But I had an opportunity to have my dad this time so I asked and he agreed.  He came and he did what I asked… but no more.  He never said a word about how I looked, he didn’t have any father/daughter moment with me prior to the service, and most memorable to me, he didn’t stick around for the dance. You know the one.  There is a dance at every wedding where the new bride dances with her daddy… seemingly for the last time before being handed off to dance all the rest of her life with her new husband.  Well, I hadn’t even had my first dance with my daddy, let alone my last.  But when it was time, he could not be found.  No explanations, no goodbyes.  He was just gone.  And so was any hope of a dance. 

He was courageous while serving his country in Vietnam at age 16, even lying about his age to get in.  He was courageous in prison, paying his dues before returning to the rest of civilization to live differently.  He was even courageous unto death as he battled a horrendous disease that eventually took his jaw, tongue, cheekbones, and eventually is brain stem.  But he never was courageous with me, his very daughter.  We never danced.  And seemingly never will.   Rise up O men of God.  Be courageous at home.  Don’t miss your son’s track meet or dancing with your daughter.  Trust me.  They’ll never stop hoping you will.