Something happened to me Wednesday night. It was subtle. It was profound. Nothing. Everything.

We went to our mid-week Tango lesson. On the ticket: “Ochos” More specifically, backwards ochos. Our lessons are in the old town hall of a nearby city. Upstairs, on a 100 year old dance floor. A true ballroom. When we walked in, two instructors were dancing to a style of music called Neuvo Tango. New Tango. If I knew how to upload the song onto this blog I would. So beautiful. I was spellbound. My eyes were transfixed. There they were, ten feet away but in their own world. A world where a man leads and a woman follows. A world where, “everything is about making the women look good.” A world where I want to live.


An hour later it was my turn. My man is a good dancer (that is how we fell in love after all) but we are each learning this dance that takes YEARS to master. To improve on ones skills it is important to dance with other partners. Generally, I think “Yuck.” when the instructor announces that it is time to “Change Partners” (another GREAT song by Harry Connick!). Really, dancing with a 60 year old man who can not keep time does NOT help me become a better dancer. It simply embaresses me. After all, Tango is about makin the woman look good! But this time I got to dance with the instructror that we watched dance at the beginning of class.

And now I have sat for three minutes because putting this into words may betray the experience…We were dancing, first a Tango, then a Valse (Tango in one-two-three timing like a Waltz)…ochos, forwards and backwards, cross steps…I wasn’t even thinking of the names of the steps… I was just dancing! It was so beautiful, I felt so beautiful…like a dancer! I began to tear up. I got goosebumps. I knew I didn’t resemble a real Tango dancer but I could feel what my body was doing, I could feel how pretty the movements were. I was euphoric.

The song ended and we seperated. He could see my emotions. Joel could see them. I was giddy. I was shaken. “This Tango thing” is so good for me. Dancing is just a dream for me. When I was young I only wanted to be a dancer. A ballerina. I was raised to love classical music I…I wanted to know how to MOVE to it. From there I wanted to move onto Jazz…but for some reason, in a home where music was priority, I could not take dance lessons.

“Dancers get big legs.” My dad said. I never understood that. Even today watching two of my favorite movies, Chicago and Moulin Rouge, I feel robbed. Robbed of a talent I really think I have.

Wednesday night some of this lost, but potential talent was restored to me. In that moment on the dance floor. I hope to get better and better. To become a true “Tanguera.” And I look forward to that day in heaven when it will be restored in FULL. I will be one of those dancing before Jesus. Lessons or not!

I can only imagine.