Turning Gold

When I was a child, I was a shy little girl. I always had a lot going on in my mind, but I was quiet in a crowd. Dance gave me a voice to express myself. It became my passion.

Throughout my whole life, dance has been a way to say the things I can’t. I live for the somatic experience of losing myself in the music and the movement. It’s a way for me to be fully present in the moment and appreciate life.

Whether or not you are a dancer, I truly believe that there is something for everyone in this life that can offer you the same kind of escape. Maybe it’s music, or hiking, or painting, or disc golf. Whatever that thing is, don’t ever stop doing it. Hold tight to it even when it feels like life is too busy, you don’t have the time, or it’s one extra thing on your plate. That thing that you love will help you find yourself when you are lost.

I believe most of you know that I am a mother. I have a two-year-old son and an eight-month-old daughter. In April of 2021, I was at the dance studio in the middle of a night of teaching when I received a phone call that changed my life forever.

My husband called the studio to inform me that we had to rush my son to the ER. Thomas, my two-year-old, had some routine bloodwork done that morning, and the results had come back concerning. It looked as though it could be indicative of leukemia. I sprinted out of the studio, and we rushed him to Children’s Hospital of Wisconsin. From the night we were admitted via the ER to the end of our first hospital stay, it was a grand total of thirty-five days. It was a traumatic experience to say the least.

Thomas has a rare form of Leukemia called AMKL. We are currently in the fourth of five chemo treatment cycles and he is doing well. He has a good prognosis and is expected to make a full recovery with a low chance of recurrence in the future. Though the road is long and excruciatingly painful as a mother, there is an end in sight.

It took me months to figure out how to be a mom to essentially a newborn (my daughter was barely three months old when Thomas was diagnosed) and a two-year-old in the hospital. I am still figuring it out, but I have more of a routine now.

One Saturday, when my husband was at the hospital with Thomas, I left my daughter with her grandma and came to Liberty Dance Center. I knew I had to dance. It had been months since I had been able to come up for air, so to speak. Every fiber of my being had begun to feel foreign to me without dance in my life.

I danced for two hours on my own and found myself again. I created some choreography to a song called “Turning Gold.” In the moment when I was dancing, I had picked the song because I liked the music and the beat. After I reflected on the song further, I realized it held a deeper meaning for my life.

Life will test us with fire. Of this, I am one hundred percent certain. No one is coming out unscathed. I can say this, having walked through hell myself for the past five months. It’s not what happens to us that should determine who we are, but rather, how we react to it. We can dissolve and turn to ash in the flames. Or we can come back stronger, refined into gold.

As this dance year begins, remember that dance is so much more than technique and choreography. It’s more than costumes and performances. It’s bigger than any one of us. Dance is a place where we can come to be safe, loved, accepted, and found.

Thank you for being a part of the Liberty Dance Center community and for giving your child the gift of a lifelong skill that can carry them through the times when they’ll need an anchor. I am who I am today because of the gift of dance in my life and I appreciate the honor of sharing this passion with your children. With fall right around the corner, let’s all decide to turn to gold this year at Liberty Dance Center.

~Miss Lori

(Miss Lori is a special guest writer, and this is her first post for LDC)