The theatah, the theatah . . .

{This post is dedicated to my darling, dancing partner, friend, one associated with the club “you two”, and a member of the “name-less” group. Sorry it took so long. But, give me some credit, I never forgot!}

       There’s magic in the air . . . or is that hair spray? There’s magic and hair spray in the air. The lights are dimmed to a sad, eerie glow. Audience hushed. Slowly, stage lights come on. To the crowd’s surprise, the gentle singing is coming from behind them. “Long live God. Looong live Go-o-o-od. Looong live Go-o-od. Looong live God” All five isles have actors and actresses leisurely strolling down the pathways, singing the same heavy-hearted song. Our Jesus has been crucified through our blind anger and unwillingness to listen. Sorrowful and ashamed, we make our way to the stage. My friend gives me a comforting hug. I smile, though I don’t feel comforted. Look at the ugliness we’ve caused. Sighing, I look out across the black sea of faces. But I don’t recognize it as a crowd. It’s merely a wall, separating us from our fantasy world and the reality of life.
        Suddenly energized and excited, my partner shakes me, jumping up and down and pointing to something behind us. I turn and gasp. It’s our Jesus! He’s alive! Smiling, he waves at us with a joyous and forgiving face. I’m suddenly jumping up and down along with my friend. Everything is okay now. He’s alive! He’s alive! The tempo of our song increases, “long live Go-o-od. Long live Go-o-o-od. Long live Go-o-od. LONG LIVE GOD!” With one bow, my partner and I are suddenly ourselves again. No longer the little, lost kids we used to be, we’ve been morphed back into the semi-regular Christian teenagers we are. But though we’ve been transformed to our usual selves, we’re still dancing partners. Even far apart, without having our faces with an orange coating of stage make-up, we are just that; partners. No matter the distance, no one can change that. And now, five months after the Easter play, we will be reunited once again! Ready to be a back up singer day-by-day, square dancer beseechingly, or some brat kid, I just wanted to let you know: my dancing shoes are polished and waiting.

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