When we got home from rehearsal I wasn’t feeling brave or optimistic or resourceful; I had a migraine and a brain block. Was it even worth going to the recital? Would we ruin it for the other 2 dancers in her class? Should we just cut our losses and run away from dance forever? My least mature self was screaming, “Please, yes!” But recognizing that support was the issue, I started grasping at straws. We could bring her noise-canceling headphones. I could remain on stage with… her…? It all seemed so ridiculously impossible. My head began hurting more. I drove home, put Lydia in her room and slept for an hour.
When I woke up it was time to get ready. Unsure of what else to do, I got us ready. I curled Lydia’s hair. Having run the aide idea by her teacher, I dressed myself in black. I wondered if I could even ask Lydia to get on stage again—if she would even be able to try. I decided that if she panicked too much, I wouldn’t make her. We’d literally take it one moment at a time.
We went to the jr high. Lydia was nervous when we entered the auditorium, but she calmed down as we settled into our seats. The lights dimmed & a video presentation began. The theme of the recital was “Maybe” & the video was about how we all have unlimited potential; within each of us is a unique light that is meant to be cultivated. As we try new things it will be hard, & we may fail sometimes, but there is so much to learn in the process, & we can be lights even in the darkness. My eyes filled w/ tears as I considered Lydia & her little light & what she might teach us all by showing up on that stage, tonight. I decided to let her shine.
And… she did. She got up there. Against all odds. Backstage behind the curtain she whimpered but I reassured her, “Mama’s coming!” and bless her precious trust, she came with me. She stood on her mark. She did not run. She did not even have to hold my hand and let me stand several feet behind. She stood, by herself, bravely, next to her friends. She did exactly ONE step of her dance. 😂🤩But if you knew, if you REALLY knew what a miracle that was for her, just to show up, my gosh how you would have cheered!!!
In all her public school performances this year, never once has she stood. Never once has she been without an aide inches from her side. Never once has she been on a darkened stage under the lights with an entire audience clapping along to the beat, and FACED IT.
Yes, I was up there for support, and I’m glad I was, because she knows I’m there for her. And I hope she also knows that she can do it. I think she does. She was not petrified this time—I saw the curiosity kick in as she looked at her classmates and watched them. When we stepped off stage she didn’t cling to me like before. And after the recital she was high on all the performance endorphins just like any other kid after any other high energy event when they are so proud of themselves.
It just takes a little extra time. A little extra creativity. A little extra support. But we get there.
As soon as we were off stage, her teacher, having seen every step of the drama, praised her to the skies. Because she gets it. It’s not about getting every step right here—it’s about the miles each child comes on their own journey. And my gosh, Lydia came MILES. And her sweet teacher, who walked every step with us, looked me in the eye, this mother who was ready to run away in despair, & said emphatically, “She has a place here.” And that plus Lydie’s one step was all the dance recital success in the world to me.
