Written, directed, and performed, so…night-night zzzzz
It usually doesn’t take long for me to pick up things, like how to crochet or put a clean filter in the furnace, but if it’s my family’s laundry on the floor or life lessons…forget about it!
You would think instructions are innate, or come naturally. However, in my case I need to be hit over the head with it. I must have dozed off during those prime learning years.
Last weekend, I experienced a big one, maybe one of the hardest things I’ve had to grasp. On Saturday night, I became a grownup. I thought when I got married that would be an indicator of my reaching adulthood. Nope. Then when I had children, immediate feelings of being the adult really never hit me. I was 35.
It wasn’t until I was seated in the front row of an audience at my wonderful, little Overland Park church that it hit me…I am no longer the child. There in front of me were 40 bright-eyed actors and singers, waiting to perform the first musical I had written.
“How did I get here?” was the first thing I thought. Then, “Oh, my goodness! I’m prepared just like my first church choir conductor.”
As I pushed back my reading glasses, I leaned into the script with my flickering tea light, to barely see the words my cast might forget during the performance. I was just short of yelling out, “A one-ie, and a two-ie and a thre-ee, four…” when it hit me. I was no longer the grasshopper, but the Sensei. Only took me half a century to figure it out. That’s not bad, right?
After the children did an amazing job; I finally came up for air. It was over.
People asked me if I was exhausted, especially those who knew I started researching for the play last May. I gave a nonchalant reply with a smile, “No, I’m fine!” After all, the show isn’t over until the set and lights are down and the costumes are cleaned and packed. Then you relax.
Then it happened.
The show was packed away. My life was no longer crazy and amped up, and the only things left were memories by photos, hopefully a clear video and hundreds of odd scraps of paper with my scribble on it. Directing is a 24/7 job.
So was I really acting like that quirky woman who first taught me the very same songs, which were in my musical? “Away in the Manger” and “Silent Night” took on a new feel as a grownup, perhaps because I didn’t have them sing it in that horrible screechy key she did! I knew I was coming full circle, but passing on the spotlight to the next star.
The new adult feeling was that I wasn’t sad or felt like I had that wonderful part of my life stripped away. It was finally time to pass the torch, even though I haven’t been on the stage in over 10 years. Until that moment, when I was counting off the beats of the songs, and mouthing the words forcefully looking like a dog eating peanut butter, I had been one of those kids on the stage, smiling and anxiously awaiting my cue from the lady with the big glasses and a white stick.
I’m not going to get a white stick or slam my music stand with sheets flying, while screaming, “Cheese and crackers!” But I might hear her count off in my head. It was funny though, when my choir of angels sang, I surprisingly put my finger to each side of my mouth to draw a happy face. And guess what?
It worked. They sang beautifully and were radiant.
I’m going to keep that one!