In the cool of the day, the woman stood outside and filled her lungs with the fresh morning air. As the town roused from its slumber, she considered what this day would hold. Before her thought was complete, she turned to find a man standing by her side. She recognized his face, for she had seen him but a few times before he left this earth. He stood tall and strong, his face like warrior – steady and resolute.
“The girl,” she thought to herself.
His did not meet her eyes, and he needn’t say a word, for she knew the purpose of his presence.
She whispered to him, “The girl?”
No reply.
She followed the man’s line of vision and saw her there. She was walking up the quiet street to meet the woman, as she did every other morning. Longtime friends and confidants, age was no factor for these ladies. Love and trust had bonded the two through years of laughter and tears, mutual disinterests and unabating aches to be seen and loved. Lately, the girl's sorrow ran deep. Even so, the woman saw a flickering flame of hope fighting to shine through the heaps of suffering and loss that crowded her heart.
As the girl reached the front porch, they locked eyes. The woman looked to the patient man, then back at her unsuspecting friend. She fought back tears and cleared her throat.
“He’s here.”
The girl’s beautiful brown eyes widened as she leaned forward to hear again, more clearly this time. The woman realized that hers were the only eyes that could see.
“Your father. He’s standing right here.”
The girl did not say a word. And though she could not see him, she believed.
And they danced.
Replacing her scarlet dress, he clothed his precious one in a white satin gown adorned with amethysts, sapphires, and rubies. His gaze was unfaltering, beholding the beauty before him: elegant and poised, innocent and virtuous, beloved daughter in whom he was well-pleased.
The man gently led his daughter with his fingertips. The energy that flowed through his veins was the favor that carried her soul and strengthened her bones to dance with excellent finesse. Her heart was as light as her feet. Love was her celebration as she danced to the song of freedom in the presence of her father.
The woman could not separate her gaze from the prized ballerina. Her face radiated the love of her unseen father, leaving the woman eager to know its source, just as the brilliant moon created a relentless yearning to know the sun, night after night.
Comforted by her God, the woman knew that one day the girl would be able to see for herself.
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You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness.
Psalm 30:11
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