The Sacred Dance: When Rebellion Meets True Strength
The Moment of Change
I was seventy-four when I finally said ‘no’ to hosting Christmas breakfast.
The year before, our family tradition of stockings and breakfast had shattered as we huddled in Tufts Medical Center, waiting while my older son hovered near death’s threshold.
As he recovered, I watched my grandchildren – now with families and budding traditions of their own – and realized something had shifted.
So when the questions about Thanksgiving and Christmas began, I heard myself say simply, ‘I’m done.’
Rebellion, or…?
The words felt both liberating and dangerous – a small rebellion against years of expectations.
But was it truly rebellion? Or was it something else – a different kind of strength emerging from the crucible of that hospital vigil?
It made me wonder: What transforms an act of rebellion into a demonstration of true strength, and how do we recognize the difference?
As I’ve reflected on that moment, I’ve come to understand that rebellion takes many forms.
Sometimes it erupts as raw defiance – like the time my ten-year-old son climbed a tree and refused to come down for school.
I still remember standing there, trying to look stern while secretly admiring his determination.
That’s rebellion in its purest form: the courage to say ‘no’ matched with the willingness to face consequences.
It’s in these moments, between impulse and wisdom, that rebellion and strength begin their sacred dance.
When Wisdom Whispers
But there’s another kind of rebellion that comes with age – the quiet, considered kind born of deep knowing.
I have a friend, who, after many years of faithful church attendance, announced she was spending her Sunday mornings painting instead.
God and I have a different arrangement now,’ she said, dabbing colors onto canvas while her loved ones went to Mass.
There wasn’t a trace of defiance in her voice – only peace.
These aren’t acts of defiance so much as declarations of selfhood.
They’re moments when we finally hear that still, small voice inside saying, ‘This is who you are. This is what you need.’
And maybe that’s where true strength lies – not in the loud ‘no’ of youth, but in the gentle ‘yes’ to ourselves that comes with age.
The Quiet Revolution
This is the kind of strength that doesn’t need to announce itself.
It moves quietly, like a deep river, knowing its own course.
When I said ‘I’m done’ to hosting Christmas breakfast, it wasn’t rebellion against my family – it was alignment with my truth.
The strength wasn’t in the ‘no’ itself, but in the space that ‘no’ created for something new to emerge.
In some spiritual traditions, they say God speaks in whispers.
I’ve come to believe the same is true of our deepest strength. It rarely shouts.
It doesn’t pound its fists on the table or demand attention.
Instead, it rises like dawn light – gentle but unstoppable.
I think about my friend painting her Sunday mornings away.
Some might call it rebellion against tradition, against community expectations, against God.
But watching her work, seeing the light in her eyes as she mixes colors and creates beauty, I recognize something else.
She hasn’t walked away from her faith – she walked deeper into it, finding her own path to the sacred.
The Rebellious Listener
Just as I discovered when I stepped away from hosting Christmas breakfast, sometimes what looks like rebellion to others is really an act of profound listening.
Listening to our changing needs, to the wisdom our years have earned us, to the quiet voice of our own truth.
Does this mean every impulse to rebel is sacred? Hardly. (My tree-climbing son would have loved that excuse.)
But perhaps the gift of aging is learning to distinguish between rebellion for rebellion’s sake and the kind of holy rebellion that aligns us with our deepest selves.
The real question isn’t whether rebellion equals strength – it’s about recognizing when our ‘no’ comes from our highest wisdom rather than our oldest wounds.
Sometimes the strongest thing we can do is quietly step away from what no longer serves us, making space for what does.
Like my friend finding communion in color and light, and my own moment of clarity in saying ‘done’ to Christmas hosting—these weren’t acts of rebellion at all – they were acts of coming home to a current reality.
As you move through your own journey, pay attention to those quiet nudges, those gentle whispers of ‘maybe it’s time.’
Notice when your ‘no’ feels like liberation rather than defiance. What traditions or expectations have you outgrown?
What truth is asking to be honored?
A question for you
I’d love to hear your stories of holy rebellion – those moments when staying true to yourself felt both terrifying and absolutely right.
Share them in the comments below, or carry this question with you:
What would it look like to let your strength
speak in whispers rather than shouts?
After all, some rebellions don’t need a loud voice.
They just need a brave heart and the wisdom to know when it’s time to paint your own kind of Sunday morning.
Join me in the coming weeks as we explore more dimensions of the spirituality that comes with aging.
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