SAUCIER — A time to dance

It was our young granddaughter’s Christmas dance recital.

We were sitting up front. From our angle, you could see the little backlit silhouettes in the wing being herded into position for the next number.

At the head of the line was one of the instructors. The teacher of a very young class often accompanied her students onto the stage to lead them through their steps.

What was unusual was that she was carrying a child on her hip, a child the size of those lined up behind her.

The instructor and her charge led the way. The stage lights confirmed what the contours of her shadow in the wings had suggested. The girl had Down Syndrome.

While another teacher helped position the others, the woman carrying the girl carefully lowered herself to the floor. She knelt behind the child, holding her at the waist.

Looking around, I was not the only one moved by the sight. In our so-often seemingly dystopic times, this was a glimpse of the Kingdom.

It took exceptional care from the instructors, acceptance by the other young dancers, and the courage of the young girl and her parents to try this.

And now, performing on stage, they displayed the fruits of this noble experiment of inclusion.

It was a tap class, and the 3-year-olds flashed their patent leather shoes to a rhythmic sound. Our friend watched the feet of her fellow performers and tried hard to copy their movement.

What she lacked in precision, she made up in passion and vigor. She reminded me of Marion’s joyous cavorting once the Israelites were delivered from the Egyptians, or David whirling and high kicking as the Ark of the Covenant entered Jerusalem.

Suddenly, in the flurry of her tapping, the little girl lost her shoe. Undaunted, she kept tapping with her shod left foot.

Seeing others using their right feet, she tried as well, but her shoeless right foot made no sound.

That would not do. She had to have that other shoe. She lunged forward, breaking the clasp of her teacher, and grabbed it.

No time to put the shoe on, she got on all fours and finished the performance tapping that shoe on the floor with her hand.

She was determined to be a part of the dance, at one with the music, with her friends, and with life.

She reminded me of an old Hopi proverb: “To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak.”