Once Giselle was satisfied with her online application and essay, she took a few seconds to look over her work and decide if she’d gone overboard on her essay. After all, was her dream even possible? Would the owner, or whoever read her application, think that her essay was the ramblings of a terribly immature girl?! Would they think she was too daft to be a dance student there, much less a teacher?!
With her breath held, Giselle closed her eyes, asking the Lord to intervene. She wasn’t sure what to expect in response, but she decided she would have been less than honest with the dance studio owner and herself, if she didn’t say exactly what she was thinking.
Click! And, off it flew into cyberspace, landing right into the Incoming Mail of Conyer Whitefield’s computer.
Giselle, knowing that she would also drop off the handwritten application in the morning on her way to work, traipsed back to her bedroom with that knowledge, not knowing if she should feel panic or peace over what she’d just emailed. After a whispered prayer asking the Lord for whoever read her application to truly see what was in her heart as she wrote, she decided on peace.
Leaving the light on all night in her room, after lying down on top of the covers, Giselle fell into an emotionally exhausted sleep. The next time Giselle was aware of her surroundings, it was six-seventeen in the morning. She awoke with a start. She’d never set her alarm, and for the first few seconds, her heart raced at the thought that she might have overslept.
Chapter 25
Eleven-forty-two p.m., and Conyer was exhausted. His mind was almost numb from all the paperwork he’d been drowning in since six-twenty-three p.m., right after he’d eaten a hearty dinner of two slices of toast with peanut butter and the dregs of a refrigerated bottle of orange-papaya juice. The juice tasted a little weird, only he couldn’t identify why. And, the only reason he hadn’t also added jelly to his open-faced sandwiches, was because there wasn’t any.
There was nothing else to even round out the meal, like chips or cookies. His “cupboard was bare.” Immediately after eating, he closeted himself into Aunt Tierney’s office and began the paperwork that threatened to squeeze the very life out of him. He hated paperwork, balance sheets, spread sheets, and bank deposit slips. And, the outrageously abundant funds that became his livelihood, as a result of all the family enterprises that he now owned, were enough to sustain ten to fifteen families, from his perspective. He was blessed and he knew it. But, he was now almost too tired at any given moment to enjoy them. He had little to no strength left at the end of each day to enjoy the fruits of his (and his aunt’s and uncle’s) labors.
As Conyer stood from his desk chair and stretched, his intention was to power down his laptop. But, even as his hand was reaching down to do so, he heard the chirping sound that indicated an email was coming in. His first thought was to wait until tomorrow. It was probably some business from one of his many holdings, or even worse, some young mother who had just filled out the application papers for their probable no-talent little daughter to join the dance classes, so that she, the mother, could join the ranks of the infamous “dance moms.”
No… wait! That couldn’t be it! They weren’t even taking those yet. He wasn’t even sure when that would be. It would depend on when, or perhaps he should say if Giselle found the place, entered the dancing domain, and made application to teach there.
As curiosity grabbed him, Conyer plopped himself back down on Aunt Tierney’s desk chair, and his tired, but soulful voice softly spoke.
“Lord, I know You’re in control of this entire project. I just can’t see how this will all come together, but Who can I lean on and trust in, if not You. You’re orchestrating this, so I’m in!”
Clicking the email icon, Conyer was stunned to see before him the work application of one… Giselle Danvers!
“Lord…” Conyer voiced out into the almost dark room. The moment he finished his thanks to The One Who is Sovereign and Omnipotent, he began voraciously reading her application.
Knowing already of Giselle’s background in dance, he mainly just skimmed the first part of it. But, when he came to the essay, he got a lump in his throat so large that he found it difficult to swallow.
Once, twice, three times, Conyer Whitefield read Giselle’s essay. Each time he finished it, he would stare off into space for a couple of minutes, then begin reading it over again.
*****
I’ve never filled out a work application before, and I have never even heard of there being a “dream big” essay. I guess I’ve been sheltered my whole life from these things, so please forgive me if I’m doing this wrong, or expressing ideas that have no place in this. But, you’ve asked about my dreams, and I’m going to try to share them with you the best way I know how.
I was raised in a Christian home. My parents wanted input in what I was taught, and how. My mother was my teacher for a number of my first academic years. She not only taught me the basics of reading, writing, arithmetic, history, and geography, but she taught me lessons about a person’s character that have stuck with me to this very day. I will always be thankful for her input into the person I am today. And, it is vitally important to share with you that I am a born-again Christian. There are times in my past that I would never have given a prospective employer that information. Too fearful that it might be held against me. But, it is important that I share this with you, so that you know who I am and what I am all about.
When my regular schooling was completed, I left for a formal education in the performing arts. Specifically, ballet. My missionary parents lived very austerely, and certainly scholarships kicked in, so that I could have this specialized education. By the time I finished there, my parents had long since been out of the country, sharing the Gospel with whoever would listen. I’m very proud of the people they are!
Once my performance arts education was completed, I came back here to gather what few belongings I have in storage and head out with my troupe for a European dance tour.
While heading toward my storage facility, my car was hit and I sustained some serious injuries. I was in the hospital for weeks and weeks, and am still going twice weekly for physical therapy.
The truth is, I will never dance again. At first, my heart and my life seemed very broken. I was on a professional performance track, and was looking forward to leaving on tour. My heart, however, has changed.
While I still grieve the loss of my dancing career, I believe there is something bigger out there for me that I have still to discover. And, I am inclined to believe it still includes my beloved ballet.
I would love to be considered for a position of teaching by your studio. You would be gaining an “almost professional” dancer, with all the head- and heart-knowledge of a ballerina.
Now… for my dream!
While I was in the hospital after my accident, I met a young girl who was handicapped from birth. Her two legs were only partial. She was having major surgery done to see if what was left of her legs could be altered in such a way so as to prepare them for prosthetics. Knowing how dearly I love dancing, I felt such sadness to see that this little girl could never dance, even if she wanted to.
Then, just recently I saw her again. At my church. It was on a Sunday when our worship dance team was assisting in the service. I watched this same little girl, sitting with her parents, dance from her seat. Obviously she couldn’t dance down the aisles with the team members, but from her waist up, she couldn’t be contained. And, it was magical! The tears came rolling down my cheeks as I continued to watch her, as she mimicked the dancers up on the stage. And, I wasn’t the only one watching her. None of us in her vicinity could keep our eyes off of her. The dancing she did from the waist up held more impact emotionally and spiritually than that being done from up on the stage.
And, this brings me to my dream…
I would like to teach physically handicapped girls to dance ballet. I would like these precious little ones to travel from as far away as their parents are willing to drive t
hem, perhaps even to the point of relocating their families for their daughters’ love and commitment to dance.
I think we would have a heart-connection that wouldn’t be in any other circumstances. I would want them to see me as someone who was not only a role model, but could relate to them, and could prove to them that they are capable of appreciating the music and dance that only ballet can give.
And, now that I’ve come this far, I might as well tell you that my dream goes much further than what I’ve shared.
I would love to see my students commit themselves to this art to the point that they could be performing worldwide, in anyplace that would welcome a professional dance troupe. I would love them to know the appreciation and applause of audiences who are truly moved by their dancing.
The fulfillment of this dream is not impossible, but certainly is a challenge. But, then again, I’m not sure it couldn’t be a reality. Whether I teach at your studio, or not, I will be dreaming big, and trusting God to bring it about!
At the bottom of her essay, Giselle added:
I would truly appreciate the opportunity to sit down face-to-face and share further. I am excitedly awaiting your response.
Chapter 26
As Giselle drove to Giordino’s the next morning, to begin yet another day of welcoming the hordes of hungry humanity, her gaze left the road just long enough to notice something interesting going on at Grace Abounding Dance Studio. Actually, destructive was a better word than interesting.
On ladders of varying heights, and a couple scaffolds, there were four or five painters who were painting over the bottom halves of all the ballerina silhouettes with the dark midnight blue background paint. They were leaving the upper bodies alone, except for one. On that silhouette, they had only painted out one of the arms. From having looked so beautiful and inviting just the day before, it now looked raw and unfinished. She almost had the emotional impression that she was viewing a “crime scene.”
What was going on?! What were they doing to all those beautiful ballerinas?! Why would they be chopping them up like that?!
With too little time to stop and find out what was going on, Giselle found herself mourning the ballet dance studio façade for the entire rest of the day. Sometimes during the day, she would catch herself creating a smile when looking at the incoming customers. She’d even been asked by several of the other employees if she was ok.
A couple of hours after the lunch crowd had dispersed, she looked up from her seating log, to see Conyer standing before her.
“Oh, hi, Conyer. How are you?” A natural question. She smiled, but even she knew it wasn’t reaching her eyes.
“Fine, thank you, Giselle. Um… are you ok? You look like you’re not feeling well.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you. Are you eating alone today, or are you waiting for others to join you?”
“It’s just me today. In fact, if it’s ok. I think I’ll just sit at the lunch bar there,” he said, pointing to the bar just five feet behind Giselle.
“Sure. That’ll be fine. ‘Course,” she said, smiling reservedly, “if you sit there, you’ll be stuck with me being your server. I work that area for one hour each day to help out some of the servers who’ve been slammed during the lunch crowd.”
“Well, I don’t know if I want to trust my dining experience in the hands of someone who is just a ‘pinch hitter.’” His grin reached almost from ear-to-ear.
“Hey, watch it! Remember, I’ll be the one who has access to your food before you do.” She smiled back. This time, she knew her smile included her eyes. A little banter never hurt anyone.
Conyer responded with open hands, palms facing her in surrender. “Yes, m’am!”
*****
“When you asked if I’m ok today,” Giselle said, as she placed Conyer’s lunch on the bar counter, “I didn’t have time to really answer you.”
Looking up to see that there was no one in the foyer of the restaurant, she stood still at Conyer’s eating station. Assuming he’d want them, she reached for the salt and pepper at the same time Conyer did. Their hands touched a second or two longer than was necessary. Conyer was the first to pull away. Not because he wanted to, but he didn’t want to scare Giselle. Their friendliness was new, and he couldn’t take the risk of making any unsolicited shows of affection or friendship. It might scare her off. The one thing he knew, however, was that from what he was feeling inside, he wanted another taste of that, just as soon as possible. His heart beat was accelerated. He could feel it. And, he was quite sure he was blushing. Good grief! What was he… like ten years old?! No, he was a man in his thirties… well, exactly thirty. Geez!
Giselle, on the other hand, didn’t really seem to notice it at all. She was already thinking about something, and it appeared that she was going to talk about it.
“You know that new dance studio that’s being built on Main? Well, maybe you don’t. There’s no reason why you should. I mean, you don’t dance. There’s really no reason…
“I’m rambling, huh?”
“Maybe, but I’m in no hurry. Ok if I eat while we talk?”
“Yeah,” she responded, then continued.
“Anyway… I’ve been watching it go up. The biggest thrill was when they started the exterior design. The name of it is Grace Abounding Dance Studio. I think that’s the most wonderful name I’ve ever heard of for a studio.”
Conyer, for some unknown reason to Giselle, smiled more than just an acknowledging smile. It confused her. She thought maybe he was making fun of her.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked, with a slightly less friendly look on her face.
“Uh…, Oh… no. Um… actually I thought the same thing when I saw it go up.” And, he had!
“Oh, you’ve noticed it?” Giselle asked, the warmth returning to her face.
“Yeah. I like it a lot.”
“Me too. Anyway… I was watching them draw the ballerina silhouettes all over the building. And, each one was more beautiful than the next.
“But, when I was coming to work this morning, they were actually removing them. They were painting out parts of the ballerinas. I don’t know… maybe they were in process of taking them off altogether. And, I even applied for a teaching position there day before yesterday. I was waiting to hear from them. Now I’m wondering if they’ve maybe decided not to move ahead with it at all.”
At this point, Giselle felt a tear developing, preparing to spill from one of her eyes. It was true, she felt emotional, but this wasn’t the time nor the place to break down in a sniveling heap of tears. She swiped it away quickly.
Conyer wanted to jump over that counter, throw his arms around her, and cradle her, as he assured her everything was going to be all right. Instead, knowing full well what was happening at the dance studio, he reassured her as best as could someone who supposedly didn’t know himself what was going on.
“Maybe they’ve just had a request from the owner to change them. You said, they were mainly only changing the lower halves of them. Wouldn’t you think that if they were removing them, they would have totally wiped out each one, rather than removing part, then going to the next and removing only part. If you ask me, and I know you didn’t, but I think they just plan to maybe change them some.” He really would have told Giselle right then what was going on, but he knew that this was not the time. There was too much riding on this entrepreneurial pursuit. He couldn’t afford to waste money, even if it was for the beautiful young dancer that stood before him. He would tell her when the time was right, and he thought he’d know when that was when it presented itself.
“Well, yeah. That’s true. It would have made more sense to take each one off completely while they were already working on it, if they planned to remove them.
“Thank you, Conyer. I think I needed a little bit of encouragement.” She patted one of his hands that was resting on the counter, then rested her hand on his for several seconds. Conyer didn’t move one iota. He would have kept his hand i
n that position for the next hour, if she would have left her hand on his. He did find, however, that the longer she touched his hand, the more his heart raced. He felt like it was thudding so hard that it would be visible through his shirt. He found himself actually expelling a small breath through pursed lips when Giselle finally lifted her hand. Lifting his right index finger, he wiped away a small amount of perspiration that had accumulated on his upper lip.
Fortunately for Giselle, she was able to remove her hand from his and immediately bury it below the counter, where she retrieved the sweet tea pitcher to refill Conyer’s glass. But, not before repeatedly flexing the hidden digits and balling up her fist below the counter, still feeling the warmth of his skin in her palm. Wow! That was unexpected! And nice! No… she couldn’t think like that. She and Conyer could never be!
Chapter 27
As she pulled into the same parking lot across the street from the dance studio, and into the same parking slot, she realized she was almost afraid to look up at it. What if everything was gone, leaving a big dark midnight blue edifice, and nothing else.
Bowing her head just for a moment, Giselle asked the Lord to help her for whatever it was that was coming next. Then, she did something she was learning to do as a result of watching Doris’ and Awsty’s prayer lives. She thanked the Lord in advance for whatever she would see, knowing that He would work all things for good for her, because she loved Him and knew she could trust Him. Only then did she open and lift her eyes to the building across the street, illuminated in the darkened evening sky by lights that spotlighted each ballerina painted on the building.
What?! Wait a minute…! What?! No!… What?!
For almost one full minute, Giselle couldn’t register what her eyes were seeing. It couldn’t be. She blinked, then looked again. It still looked as it had a moment ago. And, yet again, she couldn’t register the miracle that was right there before her very eyes.
Fixing His Broken Ballerina: Volume 1 Page 16
