You'll Dance Again

by Jennifer Smith

Picture it. Me, 2014, and the release of the quintessential album (to me anyway) of Taylor Swift’s 1989. Why yes, I was a fully grown 33-year-old woman and did all the adulting that came with it, but this did not stop me from jetting to the store on release day (Children, this is when some of us actually still bought the shiny things called “compact discs”.), unwrapping the oh-my-gosh-will-this-ever-open shrink-wrapped plastic, and putting the album on repeat for the next several weeks.

Of this I am not ashamed. Your judgement means nothing to me.

It’s okay to be jealous of my husband for getting to be married to me. He loved listening to “Blank Space” on repeat throughout the month of November. (What am I thankful for this year? Catchy melodic hooks and lyrics like “Cause you know I love the players and you love the game”. I mean, this is living, folks.)

I drove down the road, windows rolled down in my sensible, middle-class mom Acadia and I danced. Danced in my seat and sang my heart out. You looking at me, Man-In-Tie, in your Mazda? I am jamming out to “Bad Blood”.

I have no shame in my Taylor Game. She is a genius.

And then… And then 2015 hit me with a sucker punch to the gut. Circumstances beyond my control made my life spiral into chaos where confusion, fear, and utter despair ruled.

There was no more dancing in the car. Instead there were gut wrenching, hot teared, cries to God in emotions and groans that only the Holy Spirit could understand.

It wasn’t just my body that stopped dancing. My heart stopped dancing too. There just wasn’t space for it. A blank space, indeed.

Y’all, these were the darkest years of my life. One day when I’m a bit further removed from it, I’ll tell you all about it. In a way I’m still in those dark years, but they are no longer pitch black, the days are no longer oppressive, and there is joy again.

During those blackest of black times I learned that light could still be found. I leaned very heavily on the knowledge that God was very near to me and my broken heart (Psalm 34) and I learned what it truly meant for Him to be a very PRESENT help in the time of trouble (Psalm 46). Because, He was. He was so very, very close.

I learned what Ecclesiastes meant by:

There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3     a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
4     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6     a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7     a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8     a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

It was my time for mourning and I held close that one day it would be my time to dance again.

I’d like to tell you that one day the switch flipped and all the sad things just went away, but that would be untrue. There are very few times in life when pain and circumstances go immediately from bad to good. There is usually a gradual release while riding a roller coaster of emotional ups and downs before coming to a complete stop. The sad things now come with less intensity, but still sting nonetheless.

Friday I drove down the highway once again and put on an album I hadn’t listened to in a few years. Yep, you guessed it- 1989. I sang the songs and felt the joy in my heart. I was thankful to find myself once again in a place of dancing.

With that, however, I also know that there are still days of mourning ahead of me. That’s okay, too. Sometimes our “times” run concurrently. Because of God’s good, near, and dear presence we’re able to do things like dance in the rain, laugh through tears, and make lemonade out of lemons.

Friend, I want to whisper to you in your darkness today that you will dance again. That’s the beauty of life. It is cyclical in nature. We can’t ever believe in the lie that our time for joy has passed. If you have lost it, believe in the hope that it will come back around again. It’s just not time for it yet.

I will be honest and tell you my dark times have made my dancing look a little different. My heart is a little worn, a little jaded, a little tired. But the close companionship of the LORD and His strength and joy have made my heart fit for dancing through it all.

Whether you jam to Taylor like me or something much cooler (But really, is there anything cooler? For evidence see below.) and you feel the joy has left your step, don’t put away your dancing shoes just yet. Trust in God’s precious presence and believe what Peter said, “So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while.”

(She makes a snake turn into BUTTERFLIES, people!)

The New Create In Us Collective

by Jennifer Smith


Two are better than one,

   because they have a good return for their labor:

If either of them falls down,

   one can help the other up.

But pity anyone who falls

   and has no one to help them up.

Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.

   But how can one keep warm alone?

Though one may be overpowered,

   two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

I have a strong grip. Something about how I was taught to shake hands as a child, I guess. I will look down at a pen as I’m writing, a grocery bag as I walk into my kitchen, or my child’s hand in a parking lot and see my knuckles practically turning white from the hold.

I also keep a strong grip on things I hold dear. Something that extends from childhood, too, and the loss of so many things at tender ages.

I keep a white-knuckled grip on things God has given me: my marriage, my children, my ministry.

But have you ever held on to something so tight it almost breaks? The thing inside your grip deteriorating under the pressure of your hands?

We think the tighter our grip, the greater our control. Our grip actually turns into a power trip. And the things in our hands die when they were meant to flourish.

I’ve felt this way about Create In Us Ministries for awhile. Due to precious things happening in my life like pregnancy, a newborn, and three little boys I haven’t found the time to write. So many ideas, but none come to fruition because my hands were busy elsewhere.

I thought of this beautiful section of the Internet, this little blog and all the wasted space. Nothing being written, stories not being told, people not being pointed to Jesus.

But what could I do? This blog is mine. No one else writes here. In this moment my thoughts were reminiscent of the pelicans in Finding Nemo:

Mine, mine, mine.

It is never good to compare yourself to the pelicans in Finding Nemo.

And then last month, as I stood in the back of our studio at our Created to Create Retreat, hearing precious women telling powerful stories about Jesus, I heard these words from the Lord:

Open your hands. And give it away.

I felt a flood of emotion and vision as God told me what to do. So today, you’re seeing it happen.

Welcome to Create In Us Collective, a place where four women will write and tell their Jesus stories. Because two is better than one and more is better than me.

I’ve invited to this Collective the three women God told me. It was clear and immediate who would share this space. These women practice the art of showing Jesus to me every time I’m in their presence. They have shared life and hurt and real with me. And I’m so happy to share them with you:

Andrea Noles is wife to Daniel and a mommy to two little boys, a teacher, and an artist. Her Jesus gift? She makes everything beautiful. Sit with her for a minute and you’ll start to look at life under the rays of a brighter sun.

Heidi Ashe is wife to Chris and a mom to three, a teacher, and a gifted writer. Her Jesus gift? She is sure and solid. She will tell you the truth while making you feel safe.

Hannah Clements is wife to Jake and a licensed counselor. Her Jesus gift? A heart for the broken. You will never meet a person who loves God’s people more. Her gift of encouragement is something you need in your life.

And I’m still Jennifer. Founder of this blog, wife to Dusty, and mom to three boys. My Jesus gift?

Opening my hands.

I’m sharing this space with women whose words will change your perspective of the hard places in life and bring you closer to Jesus.

If you’re a frequenter of the blog you know God speaks to me through birds. The sight and sound of a bird makes me stop and pay attention to the moment, to the still, small voice.

On my way home from the retreat I prayed, “God is this really what you want me to do?”

And perched on the very top of the steeple of the church I was passing was a large black bird. It’s wings extended to their fullest. He was holding his pose like he was about to take flight, but instead somebody told him to freeze. The message was loud and clear:

Open your wings, bird.

Open your hands, Jennifer.

Welcome to Create In Us Collective.

Come back tomorrow for our newest Collective post written by Heidi. For more information on our team, read about The Collective Writers on the right side of your screen.