Beech Tree News Network

On Saturday, I watched my granddaughter perform at the Hoses and Hot Rods festival in Hartford.  She is part of the young performance team in Moira Givens’ Dance Academy, in Morgantown.  I enjoy the little ones.  They are all over the place with their own ideas about which moves should go where.  The Dance Academy also features a group of older girls—middle school age—who are a lot more synchronized in their movements.
    Last year, I was the one taking my granddaughter to dance class, but this year, her mom has done so; consequently, I haven’t gotten to know the new faces like I would have if I had been there on a weekly basis.  My daughter told me Ms. Moira’s girls were currently on the performance teams, but I had never met them.
    At Saturday’s performance of the middle school team, it took just seconds to pick out Ms. Moira’s daughter.  Yes, she looks a lot like her mother, but much more striking is the daughter’s motion.  Her body moves like the ebb and flow of water.  I was transported back in time to another performance, a performance with a young Moira Givens as the dancer.
    Ms. Moira was my daughters’ dance teacher, as well.  The recital I remember most was a large event, held on stage at MES.  Lots of people came for the show that evening, including my in-laws, Agnes and J.D. Hughes.  There was another dance instructor who was part of the performance at that recital.  After the children had danced, Ms. Moira and the other instructor each did a solo performance.  When the dances concluded, my father-in-law—a war-hardened, Alabama truck-farmer—pointed to Moira and said, “Right there’s your dancer.”
    I’ve thought about that many times, in different situations, watching other naturals.  I’ve thought about the fact that some people are so obviously gifted that people like J.D. Hughes, with zero background in the arts, can pick them out of a crowd.  Not to take away from the hard work it takes to develop a gift (“Hard work beats talent that doesn’t work hard”), but there is a seemingly effortless ebb and flow that accompanies a gifted person.
    Gifted people are obvious in every walk of life, not just the arts.  Proverbs 18:16 says, “A man’s gift makes room for him” (NKJV).  Have you ever watched the chef’s at Shogun in Bowling Green?  What about the timberman who can carve horses from a block of wood with a chainsaw or the backhoe operator who can dang near scratch your back with the equipment?  I’ve always believed there is a spark inside each one of us that not only makes us unique, but also makes room for us in an otherwise overwhelming world of very talented people.
    There was a news story on the local ABC channel, WBKO, about a young busser at Buckhead Café in Bowling Green.  Chris Perriello is autistic, but he has carved out a place for himself at the restaurant by being exactly who he is—genuine and openly concerned for the well-being of others.  Chris has worked six days a week for almost ten years, and gives his job credit for helping him overcome his social anxiety.
    I love stories like that one, and I love people like the two restaurant owners who gave Chris Perriello a chance, calling it “one of the best decisions they’ve ever made.”  That’s who I want to be, the person who gives others the chance as well as the person others are glad they took a chance on.