Backwards and in Heels

Fred Astaire has been recognized as one of the best dancers of all time. Ginger Rogers was his favorite partner to dance with. Many have even heard the quote that "Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in heels." I've often heard this quote in the context that "women can do everything men can do, and sometimes they do it even better." I don't mean to minimize that sentiment, but I was listening to a podcast recently that shed light on a different reflection. Listening to this podcast, I learned that Ginger wasn't trained as a professional dancer, and Fred has said that the reason why Ginger was his favorite partner was because she would let him lead and she knew how to follow his steps. The result was a beautiful performance that dazzled audiences.

Again, I don't mean to minimize Ginger's talent or to promote the idea that women aren't as talented as men (that certainly isn't true). Rather, I am pondering the idea that sometimes it is more courageous to surrender and let someone else lead.

The deeper I get into my discernment, the more I realize there are times when I just don't know what I'm doing. Often times, I have no choice but to be led because I feel like I'm walking backwards and I can't see where I'm going. In addition, I am walking in a pair of wobbly heels that are at times two sizes too small and at other times three sizes too big. And here I am on this stage, being watched, with the pressure (whether real or perceived) of an audience that I think is here to see something beautiful or even more intimidating, to evaluate me.

My only comfort is in knowing that I'm not the only one on this stage. I'm not the one who's leading, and at any moment, I can whisper into my partner's ear: "What do I do?" And he will lead me. Do I know where? Not always. Is it scary? Sometimes. Am I ever uncertain? Absolutely. But there is something peaceful about being able to let go and not be the one in charge, to be led, and not have to worry about what's going to happen next. But it takes trust.

These are the things on my mind as the season of Lent approaches. It makes me think of when I was taking tap classes and preparing for a recital. Excitement mixed with nerves as I would step onto the stage blinded by the spotlight in my eyes. I was aware that I wasn't in charge and that the success of the performance didn't all depend on me. This Lent, I want to surrender. I'm not the one in charge of planning, and I'm not expected to know how to do everything because it isn't all about me. Sure, this year lends itself to expectation of something spectacular because of where I am in life. And my choice isn't to plan but to follow with trust that He won't let me fall off of this stage, that He will lead me in this dance, and that He will invite me into what makes this performance beautiful.