Recital 2016

Junior year of high school doesn’t end until Thursday, but Recital has come and gone. For one week now, I’ve been considering how to translate all that happened this year, and it’s almost too much to put into words. But, with over one million words to choose from, I’m going to try.

It was a weird year. I’m sure you’ve noticed. From school, to work, to dance, to driving a car, to watching friends graduate and blossom in college, my need for control has been tested time and again and has worn aggravatingly thin. This year’s Recital was bittersweet, as always, but it was short, too. Nobody planned for a blackout halfway through Spanish Dance, but the Training Division is blessed by spectacular teachers and a wonderful tech crew, and the dance went on as dances must. My need for cleanliness was nearly completely stripped away by Requiem for a Tower, pushing me to let go and accept imperfections that humbled me week after week. And I had to say goodbye– goodbye to the comfortable place in which I’ve enveloped myself for years and to the high school version 4.0 of some of my dearest friends. After God’s Warriors, only the second in all of my runs in which I didn’t miss a single turn, I had to make a decision regarding next year, and I think I chose right. I hope I chose right. I Will Sing of my Redeemer didn’t just push but shoved me out of my box and into a jazzy world that I now love. The costume turned my armpits purple, and I still have scratches from its sharp sequins, but I’m so proud to have tried something new. And as for Daylight… I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to perform it again this summer.

The kiddos–all 50 of my beautiful students–taught me a lot this year, too. I learned lessons in choosing joy and peace and patience. Each of those girls means the world to me, and I’m honored to have been able to teach and to learn from them.

Maybe what has made this year seem so indescribably odd is “the gap.” The big, huge, overwhelming, gaping GAP between maturity and adulthood. On the phone a few weeks ago, I told my grandfather that I had tried not to grow up. In return, he told me, “It only gets better from here, hunny, and we’re all on your side.” And since then, I’ve stopped trying to bridge the gap. I’m choosing to believe that it’ll close when it’s time.

Ady and I were a little tired after Showcase

And maybe that’s what control is actually. Maybe it’s the letting go and handing to God. Maybe it’s keeping an open mind and an open schedule because wonderful things happen every day, and I want to see them.

Thank you to my amazing parents, teachers and friends for a year that taught me more than words can truly say. I love you all to the moon and back.