By Guest: Michelle Lazurek
“Nana, do you know how to dance?” At age seven, I longed to glide gracefully across a dance floor and envisioned myself doing so in a long, flowing dress.
She chuckled to herself and answered, “We moved a little differently than you kids do today, but all dancing begins with a few basic steps.”
“Can you show me? Please?”
I knew Nana, one of the most important people in my life, would never refuse my request. Because she lived in the adjacent house, I spent more time with her than just about anyone. I fondly remember going over to her house to have dinner on Sunday evenings. When Nana strolled into the kitchen, she’d lift the lid and let me inhale the steam from the garlic infused potatoes and peered into the oven to watch the moist droplets of roast beef drip into the underlying pan.
During the summer, I would sleep over at Nana’s. I remember packing my things, tucking a box of Frosted Flakes cereal under my arm and making the long trek next door. I loved spending my weekends there, watching while Nana finished her crossword puzzle at the kitchen table. Occasionally, we rocked slowly back and forth in matching rocking chairs as we enjoyed the cool breeze of late summer. We talked for hours about whatever was on my mind. And sometimes we sat silently, merely enjoying each other’s company. She taught me a lot about how the world works—how to sew on a button or the magic of putting ketchup on my scrambled eggs. And on one of these carefree summer days I asked her to teach me to dance.
Nana bounced her wiry frame over to me and asked me to stand in the middle of the kitchen floor. “I’ll show you the box step. Put you hand on my waist here.” She grabbed my hand and placed it on her right hip and clasped my other hand in hers lifting it above her head.
We began to dance. I placed my left foot to my left, then in front of me, then the right, then back to where I started. I slid my finger across the back of her hand, noticing prominent wrinkles firmly embedded in the leathery exterior. Nana hummed a made-up tune as our movements became swifter, keeping time by repeating the same four words: One two three four.
And so we danced, the minutes slipping away, enjoying each other’s company, pushing toward the same goal, delighting in the joy of our rhythms.
One two three four.
The mentoring relationship works much the same as dancing. Two people draw together, invited into each other’s space. One leads the other, going through the motions in an effort to dance. Awkward at first, each one gives and takes in order to create the rhythm, each person taking a turn at being the leader, and then being led. Slowly, as the partners practice together and commit to the dance, their movements become one, and dance in time to the beat of the music that is their spiritual journey. The Lord yearns to cut in, inviting you to His dance.
My Nana, My Mentor
My nana played an important part of my life. Most of my most relished childhood memories include her. In addition to teaching me about life, she also had an incredible hand in my spiritual formation. Every week she took me to church, where I was introduced to God. Although my theology has changed quite a bit over the years, she instilled in me the value of consistent church attendance and the importance of being part of a church community. As a pastor’s wife and church planter, this love for the church has fueled me and spurred me on toward love and good deeds (see Hebrews 10:24–25). If it were not for my relationship with my nana, I might not be the person I am today.
The mentoring relationship is the same as dancing. The leader, who has a basic knowledge of the rhythmic timing and format of the dance, leads another or—in our culture of support groups and small groups—others as they learn how to dance. On occasion, these people step on each others’ toes and prevent each other from learning the dance. But in the same way as I allowed my nana to lead me, the apprentices of the group submit to the leader, who, in turn, dances with them until they have refined all aspects of the dance. Soon, each member is gliding along the dance floor, the timing and rhythm of each movement executed flawlessly in one fluid movement.
Think about the relationships in your own life. Which ones have shaped you into the person you are today? Are you still in contact with any of those people? What does the relationship look like today? Do you impact others’ lives as those people have influenced yours? As God brings to mind the lessons you have learned from those experiences, pray about who might benefit from those lessons in your own life.
I want to encourage you to find someone who needs mentoring. This can be anyone—from the woman behind the coffee shop counter to the person sitting next to you at church. Mentoring is the key by which disciples are made. If a master doesn’t pass on his knowledge and expertise to a willing apprentice, the next generation will not be equipped to carry on the legacy that came before her. All of us have stories that have influenced us, experiences that have shaped us, both positively and negatively.
Someone in your life is waiting to dance. Will you invite her to join you?
A bit about Michelle:
Michelle S. Lazurek is a pastor’s wife, author, speaker and proud She Speaks Graduate. She empowers people to live out the stories God has written for their lives. Her first book Becoming the Disciple Whom Jesus Loved: Discover your Character in God’s Love Story and her blog can be found at www.michellelazurek.com
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We’re linked up with:
- Ch…ch…ch…CHANGES Are Coming in 2017 for TMI - December 27, 2016
- What New Thing Are You Ready to See God Do in Your Life in 2017? - December 26, 2016
- Heaviness and Newness - December 23, 2016
