March 27th, 2010

I simply have to write about it. It's not every day that I experience something so invigorating that no word can better explain it but "wow." Opening night of Crazy For You-- last night, but only a few hours ago--made me so grateful to be alive. I'm thinking back to sixth grade, when St. Mary's put on Guys and Dolls and I was left in awe of the theater business. All that time, effort, and all those smiles on stage sent shivers down my spine and a bittersweet wave of sorrow violently crashed in my gut. I feared that I would never be a part of something so significant, that I would never find the courage to grace the stage and feel the magic of being someone other than myself, that I would never truly realize that who I am behind the footlights is who I really am. I am joy. I am exhilarated. I am giving my all. Oh, I am drunk on life. I am aware of my troubles, but I don't care because the good outlasts the bad. No words can express the way God seems to cradle my heart in His hands right now. My glass runs over as He pours the drink, unaware that He has given me too much. The songs forever lurk in my mind, and I don't care if they play on forever. It is the time of times; I am in the present moment, taking not one breath too soon. I feel small and big at the same time, part of an eternity, a shrunken image of what Heaven means. We are one up there and I never want it to end.

Short Story

I'm going to tell you about the time my mom entered me in a watermelon-eating contest. You see, when I was a child, I think it's safe to say that I was completely worthless. My mom signed me up for a bunch of activities so I could find my knack, but something always went wrong. She made me take ballet lessons, but I bit the instructor's hand when she tried to help me with my pirouette. So, my mom signed me up for swimming lessons. I bit the instructor when she tried to help me do the doggy-paddle. My mom even put me in a karate class, but I bit the teacher when he tried to help me with my kicks. Mom finally began to notice a pattern, and suddenly had this brilliant idea.

You see, her thoughts went something like this: "Gee, my daughter really enjoys biting things. Maybe this means she would enjoy chewing and swallowing too." So what did she do? She signed me up for a watermelon-eating contest. That's what she did. And guess what? I don't even like watermelon! I'm more of a cherry Pop-tart kind of girl. But my mom entered me in a watermelon-eating contest at the county fair never the less. I didn't even know this was in store for me. I thought we were just going to see the lamas...but no.

I found myself sitting next to this tubby little boy on a stage with all sorts of people watching me. Then, these middle-aged women brought in the watermelon on a platter. I looked at my mom as if to say, "Are you serious? You want me to eat this thing? It's got seeds in it--black seeds--and Junior over here looks like he wants to consume me." But my mom just gave me an encouraging look, mouthed the words "just do what you're good at," and made a biting motion with her teeth. So that's just what I did. I bit the judge who disqualified me for hiding my watermelon under the table. Mom never entered me in a contest of any sort ever again.