Throwback to 1989

Yesterday, I cried so much that my eyes were puffy, I could merely hiccup rather than breathe, and I had a dehydration headache from all the water I'd lost. It was like a throwback to 1989 (i.e. when I was a 4-year-old). This was not due to any major crisis, just a compilation of things that were not going as I would like them to go.


A couple of hours before this crying session (and unrelated to it), I had been choreographing a group of early-teenage girls who were actually very diligent and talented, for their dance recital which will take place in a few months. With each 8-count of steps that I would give them, I was met with squeals of protest:


"We're gonna look silly! 
"The tall girl is next to the short girl!"
"I don't want to be in front/in back/in the middle!" 
"I can't do this step!"
"I look stupid!" 
"The music is too fast/too slow!"
"Why don't we do this move instead?!"


This went on for about 45 long minutes. New step, squeals of protest, new step, squeals of protest, etc.

Towards the end of the class, I had them run their new dance for the first time start-to-finish, and when they were finished, at that crucial moment when they were looking to me for a reaction, I told them (and this was true), 


"People are going to go crazy when they see this. You have no idea how great you guys are." 


This made all the difference to them. They relaxed, stopped fighting, and started really dancing the steps. What does this have to do with yesterday's crying session? 


Actually, yesterday, things were fine. But they were fine in a bigger-picture way, and I couldn't wrangle my emotions in long enough to appreciate that. Difficulties with pregnancy mean I am going to have a child, my husband being sick for 5+ weeks means we're both being tested to reach higher levels, and etc. etc. with the many challenges of life. 


My tearful reaction to G-d's orchestrations was very similar to my students' reactions to their given choreography. He was assigning me certain tasks and circumstances and at the time, I just could not accept them or believe that they were part of a bigger picture. Since G-d chooses not to openly reveal himself to explain, "It's a dance, and it's looking fantastic, just trust me", I have to bolster my own beliefs, read, write, and pray to stop fighting and start dancing the steps. 


And sometimes, even with all this in mind, the first 'step' is to cry.