Two years ago I took off my beaded jacket, kicked off my sparkly heels and reentered the dance floor with vigor. Our son had married his best friend earlier that brilliant autumn day, and our joy knew no bounds. Surrounded by friends and family, old and new, Jack and I were having the time of our lives. All the preparation was over, the lists crossed off, the tuxes rented. The music had started. The party had begun.
By evening we had logged in hours of laughter, tears, feasting, toasting, dancing. My face hurt from smiling, my heart burst with happiness, and hey, to make it perfect – get this – Jack even danced.
For those who don’t know, Jack’s idea of dancing (unlike mine) was to sit at the table and watch. Not that he never danced. No, there, was our wedding, I remember that. And later, my 50th birthday. So you see, he did dance. He just didn’t what you might call make a habit of it.
But the day of our son’s wedding was a different matter. That day he could not sit still for long. He hit the dance floor again and again, joining a hundred other people whose lives connected with ours. Watching the video is a hoot – you hear the rhythms, you watch the expressions, you feel the cheer, and your own feet start tapping. You can hardly help it, The room is filled with pockets of people unwinding at decorated tables, talking, feasting, catching up, supporting our families as we sent our son and daughter off into the world as a brand-new family.
Truly, joy shared is joy doubled.
And then, two months later, many of us gathered again. We were dressed up as before, with flowers and music, hundreds of friends, good food and drink, but this time the celebration was of a different nature. We celebrated the life of that dancing man, Jack — husband, father, brother, coworker, uncle, friend.
As before, we gathered at decorated tables, talking, feasting, catching up, lending support, demonstrating not only
Joy shared is joy doubled,
but also
Sorrow shared is half sorrow.
We gathered that overcast December day, not to send a family off into this world, but to send our dancing friend into the next. He was ready. The lists that mattered had been crossed off. He had a perfect new tux to be dressed in, one paid for by his friend and rescuer, Jesus. All he had to do was accept it and put it on, a decision he had made a few decades earlier.
And now, the day of party had come.
Jesus said (to his grieving friend Martha),
“I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and he who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?”
“Yes, Lord,” she told Him, “I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who was to come into the world.”
John 11:25-27