HerTurnToDance

~*~Her Turn To Dance~*~
About Selma Janette Estes
Written By Karen Payne

I was in my early thirties the first time I met my friend Sylvia. Our daughters were in the same grade at school and became fast
friends. It wasn't long before Sylvia and I were commiserating
over morning coffee and sharing our joys and sorrows most of which are normal for busy, thirty~something women. Sylvia and her husband both worked, and I had no job, so I baby sat for her for awhile, because she still had children at home under kindergarten age.
We got much closer, and spent a lot of time together and became fast friends. During this time, I would occasionally see Sylvia's mother, who still lived on the farm with her husband and one son. Often times, when she stopped by Sylvia's, she remained in the car and visited as it was easier than getting her into her wheel chair and into the house.
Sylvia told me that her mom had contracted polio when she was three years old, but according to Sylvia that neveer stopped her
She raised a large family, Sylvia was the only girl. Her mom
cooked, cleaned, canned, worked in the garden, helped in the fields upon occasion, fed
"thrashers"~~{a colloquial term for neighbors who came in at harvest time to harvest the crops} washed clothes, ironed everything, attended church, and loved her family.

Selma Janette Estes, Sylvia's Mom, spent her last years in the Nursing Home, as she required 24 hour care. But she always loved the farm, and one thing she always wanted to do, was to dance, really dance. When Sylvia called to tell me that her beloved Mother had died at the age of 95, she couldn't even talk, and I found it hard to talk to her ~So I wrote her this poem. This poem belongs to Sylvia, and speaks volumes
about her beloved Mother, and the life she led and
loved on the Iowa Prarie
~~~~And Her Most Ardent Wish~~~~

~*~Her Turn To Dance~*~

She was nervous, as well she should be.
She had never seen Him before,
At least not face to face,
But she had seen Him in a million moments,
Briefly glimpsing His passage at times.

She suffered all the slings and arrows
That life had chosen for her.
She knew the joy of newborn life, and the sorrow
Of offering it back to the Creator.She had born the
The rigors of farm life carved from the Iowa Praririe,
And thrived on the stubborn strength that carving caused,
And all the while did so with withered limbs.

Through it all, He had been there.
He had strengthened her when she could not go on,
Wept with her when her heart was broken.
Laughed with her when she shared the joy of the firstborn,
Last born, Grandchildren, and the 'greats of life'
That happen in between.

But now she was nervous, as well she should be,
For now at long last, this Friend, this Lover, this Comforter,
Would meet her face to face, with a single question for her.
And she must answer. Jesus asks the question:

Shall We Dance?

Ecclesiastes 3:4
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to DANCE.