Dance Into Destiny

by Sherri L. Lewis

  “I’m sure it must be hard for him to deal with you being in grad school and having such a demanding schedule.”

  “Actually, he should understand. He’s in his second year of law school.”

  Once again, Keeva felt as if something she would normally brag about was totally lost on Shara. She relaxed and decided to be honest. “He can be demanding and inconsiderate at times, but he’s sweet. I’ve learned in relationships you have to take the good with the bad.”

  Shara raised her eyebrows. “Maybe that’s why I’m not in a relationship.”

  Keeva laughed.

  For the next hour or so, they discussed the project. Keeva liked the way Shara’s mind worked. She could tell Shara had been thinking about the project for quite some time. It was almost as if she didn’t need to be there helping. She didn’t mind. Her brain felt fuzzy when she even thought about it, so she was glad Shara had at least mentally completed a large part of the work.

  As they discussed it, Shara asked for her opinion or ideas a few times. Keeva didn’t have anything to add. She started pulling her hair and bouncing her leg. The more Shara talked, the more unintelligent and unprepared she felt. After Shara asked her for her input for about the fifth time, Keeva couldn’t tell whether Shara was trying to embarrass her or what.

  “Shara, I told you before, I really haven’t worked on this at all. I was primarily concerned about getting through midterms. Just because you’re organized and get everything done in time doesn’t mean I’ve done my part. Maybe you’d prefer to have another partner to work with since I haven’t done anything. I’m sure it’s not too late to switch.” She knew her tone was nastier than it should have been.

  Shara looked as if she had slapped her. Keeva was instantly sorry because it was clear she wasn’t trying to embarrass her. Shara sat there without saying anything.

  Keeva said, “I’m sorry. I feel bad because I haven’t done anything and you’ve practically completed the project. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  Shara still didn’t say anything.

  Keeva continued. “I guess I’ve just been a bit overwhelmed lately. It’s just school and all . . .” Her voice cracked. She froze.

  Get it together, Keeva! You will not cry in front of this girl! She tried to rein in her emotions, but when the hurt look in Shara’s eyes turned to concern, it did her in. She burst into tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I . . . it’s just that I . . . I’ve been . . . could you excuse me for a minute?”

  Shara nodded.

  In the bathroom, Keeva splashed her face with cold water and stared at herself hard in the mirror. What is your problem? What was she going to say when she went back out to the living room? Don’t mind me, I’m an emotionally unstable basket case? She took a deep breath and walked back into the living area.

  Shara stood at a large window. “You have an awesome view up here.”

  Keeva walked over to the window and started to speak, but didn’t know what to say.

  Shara said, “I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you all that well, but . . . in the past few interactions, I’ve noticed you seem stressed out. You don’t have to try to explain that. Life is like that sometimes. Like I said, I know we don’t know each other well, so don’t feel like you have to, but if you ever need a listening ear with a silent mouth, let me know. Sometimes it feels better to get things out.”

  Keeva nodded and stared out the window.

  Shara walked over to the dining table and began putting her books back into her worn book bag. “We can work on the project later. We got a lot done today and we have plenty of time. I know I’m being anal in wanting to get it done so soon.”

  Shara had her hand on the door when Keeva finally spoke.

  “Shara?”

  “Yeah?”

  Keeva took a deep breath. “When you said what you said about losing dreams and not having a sense of purpose and destiny and all that stuff . . . well . . . where do you get your sense of purpose from?”

  Shara smiled. “I thought you were going to tell me to lock the door on my way out.” She put her book bag down and slowly walked back over to the window.

  “I’d have to say I get it from God. My sense of self, why I’m here, what I’m supposed to accomplish in life, the vision and strength to do it . . . all that comes from my relationship with God.”

  Keeva furrowed her eyebrows. She had gone to church on and off most of her life and had never gotten any of those things out of it. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  Keeva stared out the window, focusing on nothing. A large tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m getting a master’s degree in a field I’m not even sure I want to work in. I’m dating a man I’m not sure I want to be with. I can only stand my friends in small doses. I can’t have a real conversation with my parents. Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I got here.

  “When I was a little girl, I had so many dreams about who I wanted to be and what I was going to do.” She fingered the tassel on her window blinds. “The life I dreamed of is not at all the one I’m living now. I feel like I lost myself somewhere. The worst part is, I don’t know how to get me back. I’m not even sure I know who me is.”

  There. She said it. She was finally honest with herself and gave words to her misery. “You talk so passionately about what you want to do. You’re exactly where you want to be, doing exactly what you want to be doing. I can’t imagine how beautiful that must be.” Keeva shook her head. “All I know is that I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

  Shara was silent for a few minutes. Finally, she asked, “What did you dream about being when you were a little girl?”

  A sad smile crossed Keeva’s face. “I wanted to be a dancer. From my very first dance class when I was six, that’s all I ever wanted. When I dance, I feel alive and happy, like everything’s all right with the world.”

  She told her about her tradition of seeing Alvin Ailey every year with her father and shared her disappointment when her parents wouldn’t let her audition. “I haven’t gone to see them since or any other dance troupe for that matter. The only time I dance now is here in my living room and that’s only when I get really depressed. Which has been quite often lately.”

  “Is it too late for you to dance now? Could you still try out for Alvin Ailey or some other group?”

  Keeva shook her head. “I’ve been out of the game too long. I’m completely out of shape and—”

  “Out of shape?” Shara looked her up and down.

  “In terms of dancing, yes. I still took some classes in my first few years of college, but I haven’t danced since then. I would have to really work hard to get back in shape to dance professionally. Plus, it’s a full time job. I couldn’t do that and go to school.”

  “What if you took some dance classes just to do something you enjoy?”

  Keeva stared out her window at Peachtree Street below. “Hurts too much. It just reminds me that I’m not living the life I want to live.”

  Shara was quiet for a few minutes then asked, “You mentioned you majored in English for a while because you like to write. Was that something you wanted to do professionally?”

  Keeva nodded. “Yeah, I love to write. I have this really vivid imagination. When I was a little girl, I used to sit around and make up stories in my head all the time, I guess to escape my life. I used to get in trouble with my mom and all my teachers for daydreaming. I thought I might try my hand at it.”

  “So what happened?”

  “My parents threw a fit. They went into this spiel about me not being able to find a job. They said I should do it as a hobby, but that I’d never be able to make a career of it. They said if I insisted on majoring in English, they’d pull my financial support so I could see how it felt to live on no money.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What do you think? I changed my major to psychology and told them I planned to get a PhD. Of course they
were thrilled. My dad even bought me a new car the next week. That was my first BMW. I got the one I’m driving now when I got accepted into the PhD program at Emory. They threatened to snatch it so many times when I wasn’t doing well there. Then—”

  She stopped when she saw the look of surprise on Shara’s face. “I started out in Emory’s PhD program but couldn’t maintain the B average. I didn’t even get to the second year. I guess that’s why I was freaking out over midterms here. I can’t afford to flunk out of another program. My parents would kill me.”

  Keeva turned and leaned her body against the long window. “I was always an A student with maybe a B here and there. For some reason though, I couldn’t pull it together then. My parents threatened me so many times to withdraw their financial support if I didn’t do better, but even that wasn’t enough. They were furious when I had to leave Emory.”

  She halfway smiled. “Even though Georgia State isn’t as prestigious, I was secretly glad for the change. I can still become a therapist after a much shorter program and don’t have to do a stupid dissertation.”

  Shara shook her head. “You can’t live for your parents. No wonder you’re so miserable.”

  Keeva stared at Shara.

  “No wonder you failed at Emory and no wonder you’re having so much trouble at GSU. You’re forcing yourself to do something you don’t want to do to please someone else. How can you expect to be happy? Meanwhile, you’ve put all your dreams to the side. How could you not be depressed? Keeva, you can’t live like this. What are you gonna do—pursue a career you don’t even want? How long do you think it would be before you go insane?”

  Keeva stood there, feeling like she should go off. Normally, she would have come up with something rude and nasty to put Shara back in her place. That didn’t seem right. She knew Shara was concerned.

  Besides—she was right.

  Keeva walked over and plopped down on the couch. “So what do I do?”

  “Keeva, only you know the answer to that question. All I can say is follow your heart. Be true to yourself.”

  “That sounds good, but how?”

  “For one, start doing some of the things you love. Take some dance classes—write a poem.”

  Keeva rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like my parents. ‘Just do your artsy stuff on the side.’ ”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. All I’m saying is you gotta start somewhere. You may not end up dancing with Alvin Ailey, but you can still dance. Start writing again. Just do something. If you sit around and dream about it and never do anything, nothing will happen. Each day, take some small action in the direction of where you want to be.” Shara walked over and sat at the other end of the couch.

  “That’s just it. I don’t know where I want to be,” Keeva said. “I have no idea what I would do with my life if I don’t get this counseling degree. I have no idea how to support myself and make a living. I’m not sure I’m willing to be a starving artist.”

  Keeva looked around her apartment. “I guess you can tell—I’m used to having nice things. I’m not materialistic or anything, but I like knowing I’m gonna have a certain amount of money coming in.”

  “So you’re saying you’d rather be miserable with a steady income, than happy doing what you love without the BMW and the fancy apartment?” Shara asked.

  “No. Well . . .” Keeva paused. It sounded so shallow when Shara said it that way. “You’re saying ‘doing what I love.’ I don’t know what I love. I mean, I know I love dancing, but unless I’m gonna dance in a professional company, what do I do? I know I love writing, but I don’t know if I can make a living at it. I don’t even know if I’m that good.”

  “That’s because you’ve never given it a chance. Explore it. Or do something with dance. You may not dance professionally, but there’s gotta be something you can do—like teach or something. If all you do is sit around and lament about it or think about what you used to love, you’ll never do anything. You’ll end up in a miserable career with a miserable life.”

  Keeva hugged her yellow throw pillow. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” She let out a deep breath and stared into space. “So what do I do? Quit the program? At this point, I might as well finish. But then what? How am I supposed to know what’s next?”

  Shara shrugged. “I only know one way to get direction for my life and that’s to ask God.”

  Keeva didn’t say anything. Maybe that God stuff worked for Shara, but it didn’t make much sense to her. She didn’t want to offend Shara by saying that, so she just nodded.

  The phone rang.

  Keeva knew it was Mark.

  She turned to Shara. “You hungry? Mick’s down the street has the best burgers and fries. We could eat . . . and maybe, you know . . . finish this conversation.”

  Shara smiled and nodded. They grabbed their stuff and left with the phone still ringing.

  Chapter Ten

  After track practice the next Friday, Shara grabbed her notebook and headed for the church office. She stopped to greet Mother Hobbs at her desk. After they chatted for a few minutes Shara asked, “Is Pastor Kendrick busy?”

  “He’s always free for you. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. I want to go over a few ideas with him.”

  Mother Hobbs gestured for Shara to go into his office.

  Pastor Kendrick was talking on the phone, but motioned for her to sit down in the chair in front of his large oak desk.

  Shara admired the new family picture on his desk with Pastor Kendrick, his wife and their three children. She perused his tall bookshelf for any new books she might borrow. She noticed many of her favorite authors—Myles Munroe, Dutch Sheets, Rick Joyner, and Francis Frangipane. Her eyes settled on a Jim Goll book she hadn’t read before.

  Pastor Kendrick hung up the phone. “How are you, Shara?” He stood to give her a fatherly hug and then sat down in his chair. “Mother Hobbs told me about what happened to Tangela Madison. I know that must have been difficult for you. Are you okay?”

  “It was difficult, but I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

  “Have you heard from her? Is she all right?”

  Shara shrugged. “I don’t know. Her mother made it clear I wasn’t to call the house or come by. All I can do is pray for her.”

  “You want me to try to stop by?”

  Shara shook her head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. It may be best to let her mother cool off a little first.”

  Pastor Kendrick nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I know Tangee has a lot of potential and it would be a big loss for her to not be able to come back to the program. Don’t lose heart though, Shara. Those types of things can make you feel like giving up, but you’re really making a difference in these kids’ lives.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I left that night feeling so hopeless and started praying about us being able to do more in the community. Not only for the kids, but for the parents as well. I feel that if we do more, we can make more of a difference.”

  She pulled her notebook out of her bag and showed him the notes she scribbled the morning after Tangee’s miscarriage, now typed and organized. She discussed each program, how they could implement it, and outlined a time frame in which it could be done. When she finished, Pastor Kendrick sat back in his chair shaking his head.

  “What?” Shara asked.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, then got up and walked over to his file cabinet and pulled out a large binder. He showed her the front—“Vision for Kingdom Builders Christian Center.”

  She looked at him curiously.

  “I always asked for God to send me like-minded people to help, but I have to say this is beyond what I expected.”

  He turned to a section in the notebook headed “Community Outreach/Youth.” As Shara flipped through the pages, she realized their notes were almost identical, except Pastor Kendrick had several sketches of a very large community c
enter and other sketches of classrooms and recreation rooms. On the last page it was signed, “Michael Kendrick, 1982.”

  “God gave this to you all those years ago?”

  “Yeah, but He had to do some work on me first—character building. God is funny like that. He gives you a vision, and then allows everything in your life to fall apart so He can produce His character in you. I promise you, though, there’s nothing more fulfilling than seeing your dreams actually start to materialize. It’s amazing to dream something, then pray and believe, and one day, see it happen. Life doesn’t get any better than that.”

  Shara nodded and lay his notebook on his desk.

  “I’m glad to see you’re so excited about the vision. Since you’re here, I might as well tell you that we’ve reached a critical number of members where we can start hiring more staff. One of the first positions we want to fill is youth pastor. I want you to be a part of our search committee for a candidate. We really need your input because you’ll be working very closely with this person.”

  Shara nodded. It would be nice to have a full-time person there to help out with all that needed to be done.

  After she finished talking to Pastor Kendrick, Shara chatted with Mother Hobbs for a few minutes then left. She decided to stop at Blockbuster’s on the way home to pick up a video.

  She browsed the shelves of movies, already knowing what she would get. As she approached the counter, the employee who waited on her said, “Let me guess, Sister Act II.” She smiled. It was her favorite movie and she had seen it a million times.

  Travis was always on duty at the store on Friday nights when she came in to rent movies. They had chatted a few times and he seemed like a nice person. He always had a big smile and pleasant conversation for her.

  “I have something for you. I kept it behind the counter—you haven’t been here in a while.” He pulled a video box from behind the counter and she glanced at the label on it. “Sister Act II, previewed copy, $6.99.”

  “You’ve bought this ten times with the number of times you’ve rented it. You might as well own a copy.” She took it from him and pulled out some money.