Seize the celebration whenever it comes

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dancing, Jane Butler, marriage

Yesterday in the early morning hours we danced in a pine grove down by the sea. We were out walking the dog and saw the opportunity to turn a wild space into our dance floor, not that we’re good but we do have fun. A background soundtrack and maybe something smoother under foot were the only things missing that might have made this moment with my husband any sweeter. That’s why all the planning for celebrating our thirtieth anniversary together just doesn’t matter.

This whole I-wish-I-could-dance-with-my-husband thing has gotten great. First he wouldn’t even consider it, and now, suddenly, we are dancing out in the wild. Celebrations happen when you least expect them!

Here’s a former posting about the miracle of my husband’s transformation from a sit-on-the-sidelines-and-watch kind of guy to a real live dancer.

Thank You, Cardboard Cutout Dance Partner
Finally, I get to dance with my husband after years of him refusing, all because of some unintentional reverse-psychology. Early in our marriage I announced my desire for us to learn to dance and he likewise announced his contrary desire. Instead, I flitted around the house whenever I heard music. After we had children I took a few classes but it was frustrating waiting on the sidelines to share the lone male student without a partner on every fourth dance. I took ballet for adults, later salsa by the pool on a Mexican vacation.
Twenty-five years into our marriage I realized my regret and contacted an instructor. As I saw it, if my husband had said, yes, after that first invitation I would have been cutting the rug for a quarter century already, but instead my yearning to dance had been undernourished long enough. The teacher promised to call back if any gentlemen without partners called. A week later I met Sam on the dance floor for the first night of a twelve-week session.
Any fears my family may have had of me being swept off my feet were assuaged by my dinner table stories of the gentleman who was no more interested in dance than a cardboard cutout partner I might drag around the dance floor. Sam was not a threat. Even he was not sure what he was doing there, yet everyone witnessed my disgust when he regularly canceled our dance dates. For me, apparently, a reluctant partner was better than none.
That Christmas I put my wish list on the refrigerator and below ‘new garlic press’ I wrote ‘dance lessons with you‘. My instructors must have been smirking every time I showed up to meet Sam, because unbelievably my cardboard partner had helped set the bar so low, now even
my husband could envision himself dancing. As it turned out he had already placed an envelope from the studio under the tree.
My man generously did it for me but when the time came, although he was game, he was secretly afraid it would be too hard. Now he grabs the dish towel from my hand and suddenly, laughingly, transforms me into a dancing queen.
My explanation for all this is that I respectfully left my husband out of it each time he declined to join me. Likewise he respectfully honored my desire to go on without him. In this way I showed my true love for him and he showed his true love for me. Here in the end the fantastic power of these two forces, love and respect has won out, and is the true reason I get to dance with my husband.

Dance-arama

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being yourself, dancing, dreams coming true, Jane Butler, Jane Paffenbarger Butler, joy, Longwood Gardens

Once, as in last month, my husband and I were standing on a long slow line at Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station waiting to get on a train, staring at a gorgeous expanse of polished marble flooring. But, my guy declined my invitation to practice our dance steps there for the chacha and the foxtrot.

“Come on,” I said, “Who cares. This is the perfect dance floor. How can we pass this up? Please. Please.”

“Nope,” he told me.

Not too long after that, because our moves are so complicated now (only for us, everyone else seems clear on what to do) he agreed to use the driveway as a dance floor. I mean, where else can we go? You need room. It was glorious right under the beautiful blue sky! And no one said anything, as in no neighbors remarked later when we said hello on the street during the dog walk.

This past Sunday we actually did the tango among the tulips at Longwood Gardens. Well, wait a second, maybe I should say we tried to remember our tango steps among the tulips at Longwood Gardens, but you get the idea.

So, I guess, since no one complained, all this means that the world loved it. Out there with a wide open sky with a clear view of God.

Now that’s for me.

“Spirits are high”

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being yourself, dancing, express feelings, joy, parents, play, singers, words

This is what my husband and I say to each other with a knowing smile when we spot our kids dancing around the house playfully, or humming a tune while drying dishes, or even belting out screechy fake singing in an effort to annoy. Spirits are high when kids are happy, and they sometimes show it in their actions despite whatever words they claim. It happens when kids feel good about their lives. We see it often after a struggle we have faced as parents is over. It is the validation that what we settled on as an answer is good. Kids like what is going on even when they say differently.

Our teenagers challenge us constantly through their words, saying ‘no’ to things they will benefit from, flailing in the process of a difficult decision, and arguing for the sake of arguing, testing us as two-year old children do.

But when we hear a song in the air after the struggle is over we know our iron fists have wrought good.

Actually changing your husband

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being yourself, change, dancing, dreams coming true, inspire, joy, play, scuba

We broke all the rules tonight and put on the music and danced together for the first time in weeks, and against doctors orders, because we just couldn’t stand it anymore. The whole idea that my husband is finally dancing with me and has to watch me sit it out due to an injury is just plain ironic, because it was he who wouldn’t dream of dancing at all just a year ago forcing me onto the sidelines. It’s just been stressful for us both to look at my foot in a boot, immobile on the sidelines, rather than kicking up and flying about as it should be on a glide around the dance floor. So I clomped around in the boot, dancing sort of, because we wanted to.

My friend, Judy, just shook her head. She knows the whole story, and for her it’s about the fact that I get to dance at all. ‘You changed your husband! Everyone knows you can’t do that.’

In truth I was afraid he was developing a new love, apart from dancing, because he’s taking scuba lessons twice a week while we wait for my ankle to heal. And unlike some daredevils I am aware of I am not eager to jump from airplanes or delve beneath the sea, and so maybe he’ll find cooler things to do without me, leaving dancing behind. But no, when I voice these concerns he assures me our dancing is not going anywhere but onto the dance floor. Miracle words coming from a man who said ‘no’ to kicking up heels for the first twenty-seven years of our marriage.

Indeed I can say that I inspired that change in him. That I take credit for.

But truly, he is the one who did it.

(for the short version of how I inspired my husband to finally dance with me see my post of 12/21/11)