A little over a year ago, my husband signed us up for ballroom dance lessons.
As new empty-nesters, he thought it would be a fun way for us to reconnect. I was skeptical and only agreed to attend the first class reluctantly. But here I am, more than a year later, sharing how it became one of the most meaningful metaphors for our life together.
In December, on his birthday, we performed our first showcase—a choreographed routine to the Rocky theme. In March, on my birthday, we entered our first ballroom dance competition—and to our surprise, we won first place in our category!
Now, to be clear: we’re not dance prodigies. We are as beginner as it gets, and the competition bar is very forgiving for newcomers. But that’s not the point.
What ballroom dancing has given us is something far greater than footwork: it’s given us a mirror.
Each turn and pivot, misstep and recovery, has mirrored the rhythm of our shared life—the beautiful, unpredictable, and at times painful choreography we’ve had to learn together.
We married young—19 and 21. My husband was active-duty Air Force, with plans for a lifelong military career, until a brain tumor rerouted that path. And we danced.
Just after I got into law school, we found out we were unexpectedly expecting. I had our daughter my first semester. Law school took four years instead of three. But we danced.
We hoped for more children, only to find out that wasn’t possible. It turned out our surprise baby was our one and only. And we danced.
Five cross-country moves. Jobs that fulfilled and jobs that drained. The grief of losing my beloved father. The ache of nearly losing my sister to addiction—only for her to find recovery, now over a year strong. Through it all: we danced.
Because life isn’t a straight line—it’s a series of twists, turns, crashes, and crescendos.
And that’s what makes a dance captivating. Not perfection, but persistence. Not polish, but passion.
I’ve found that the most graceful people aren’t those who’ve avoided hardship, but those who’ve allowed it to shape them into something stronger, softer, and more radiant.
So as the world spins and sways, often in unpredictable and unwelcome ways, may we all choose to keep dancing.
Not despite the struggle—but because of it.
