If the only prayer you said was thank you, that would be enough. – Meister Eckhardt

As Sandy passed by the coast of South Carolina, crashing into the northern seaboard and clearing the way for her wintry, nor’easter sister Athena, I was awestruck by the damage the storms left in their wake, and yet grateful that our Lowcountry was spared once more. However, I am not proud of this kind of gratitude. All too often, my gratefulness is of the garden variety, “there but for the grace of God go I” type, and I wonder if that is really any form of gratitude at all.

Well, I’ve just had an adventure. This past weekend, while the rest of you were speculating on the future of the GOP, shaking your heads over the David Petraeus scandal, watching college football, and doing your best to avoid Christmas music before Thanksgiving, I was being initiated into a somewhat notorious sisterhood.

It’s official. You may now call me Dance Mom.

I don’t know how to start this piece. I’m hoping to share some wisdom I recently picked up, but it’s almost too fresh. I haven’t had time to mull it over properly. Or test it for accuracy. I’m not even sure I can put it into words. But, hey – that never stopped me before. So here goes . . .