Thursday, March 21, 2013

Requiem for a Dream

The Little Man and I went for a walk last night.  The Bug needed a Daddy Date so she and The Fly went for ice cream.  I needed fresh air.  So we went for a walk.

I ran into Rosalyn.  She is a neighbor a few blocks up.  Her daughter was in a class I taught.  We chatted.  She called me, “passionate.”  She said I seemed to be, “passionate,” about what I was doing.

I was passionate.  A long time ago.  But it’s taken a long time to let myself feel passionate again in certain areas. 


My 21 year old self playing a 12 year old Mary Lennox in The Secret Garden.

I started singing show tunes again. 

For a long time I had a hard time listening to them, let alone, singing along.  They reminded me of a dream I once had, a dream that seemed to dissipate or evaporate as the years went by.

I told you a few posts ago that I wanted to be a country singer when I grew up.  Well, that was the first of my performance and fame based careers I had my sights set upon. I was going to be famous and in my Homecoming Court article I so eloquently told the interviewer that I wanted to, “bring a touch of humanity to Hollywood.”  I had no idea what I was talking about.  I was always a fan of alliteration so it had a nice ring to it.  Humanity to Hollywood...I’m pretty sure Hollywood is already made up of enough Humanity, human nature...perhaps, I should have said, bring a touch of humility to Hollywood.  Now that would have been something to pursue.

My High School Comedy Sportz Team.  I am middle row, dark brown hair, making kissy face.

I had big dreams.

I doodled about them everyday in class.  I was an excellent student.  (Enter Sarcasm Here.)

My senior quote was,

High diddlee-dee
An actor’s life for me
And as they say in Hollywood,
‘I’ll see you in the movies!’

Touching.  I know.  Inspiring?  Certainly.  Ambitious?  You could say that.  A bit self-centered?  Well, I was 17.

So I went to pursue my dream.  And, before I could even get started it felt like the door was slammed shut, dead-bolted and cemented in.

However, another door flew wide open.  It was one He had been knocking on for a while.  My heart opened.  I let it be captured.  And everything changed.

But it came with a cost.  I could have continued on my own course using anything I had control over to get me what I wanted.  He would have still loved me the same.  But, after feeling what I felt, after being rescued from so much I could do nothing but lay my motives down, lay my dreams down, lay myself down and say...I want what You have for me, Lord.

So one day at a time took a step farther away from Hollywood Hopes and Stages and Songs and one step closer to young people, kids and students.  I began teaching rather than singing.  I began preparing experiences rather than performing musical numbers.

Teachin' and Preachin'


I was angry deep down.  It hurt so bad.  I didn’t understand.  Every time I would let those feelings surface for a moment the tears would flood and I would push it all back down.  “What I am doing now is so much more fulfilling,” I would say to my brain and then to my heart.  “This is where God has me in this season,” a sure way to turn the heat down so the contents of my heart would not boil over.

Then babies came.  You can’t pursue dreams when you have babies, right?  They are dreams come true in of themselves.  It would be so selfish of me to want what I used to want...I told myself.

Time goes on and priorities change.  New ones take center stage.  Those who can’t do, teach, they say.  So I found myself singing and dancing with 6 year olds, and 8 year olds and 12 year olds...teaching them so they can go and do and entertain.

I love it.  I love picking out the songs.  I love choreographing the numbers.  Dance was my number 3 (Actor/Singer/Dancer) but I have managed to retain my box steps, pivots and jazz hands...the foundations for any good Broadway number.

I find joy in all of it.  I find joy in being with little people, who, honestly aren’t that much littler than my 5’ frame.  I love on them.  I love teaching them.  I love seeing them get it.  I love their costumes and smiles on recital night.  I fall in love with each of them as they sing and dance their little hearts out...so full of hope and ambition.  I love it.

But every time I am with them I feel like a little more of me is dying inside.  I hate to say that.  I hate to admit that it hurts.  Not because I don’t want to share that I hurt but because I don’t want anyone to think that I am disappointed.  I have a beautiful life.  I am so very grateful for it.  It is vibrant and I thrive most days...but there is a place, deep down, that doesn’t understand.

Why God, did you give me the love for a stage?  Why God, did you give me a Broadway voice?  Why God, did you let me sing and dance and act only to strip me of it all just as I was getting me feet wet?  Why, God did I dream big dreams just to see them slowly fade away?

I never talk about this.  But for some reason it is all welling up.  And as I type I can’t stop the waters from rising and pouring out. 

These verses I have been chewing on take center stage in my mind as the emotions take center stage in my chest:  

John 12:23-25
Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.  Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.  Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

He also says, “whoever finds His life will lose it and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10:39)

One more from Secret Garden.  This is with dear, talented friends.  I miss them.


I feel like it all had to die.  The dreams, the goals, the aspirations...they all had to die.  I had to let go.  I wanted them all for all the wrong reasons.  Had I not “lost,” them I might die searching for my worth in them.

Sometimes something has to die...we have to let go so we can move forward to what God is calling us to.  I think this is what happened to me.  And, for the first time, I am letting myself grieve the loss.  And, I think that is a good thing.

It’s time for a Requiem, a funeral song.  It’s time to just let the tears fall.  It’s time to surrender the questions and the disappointment.  It’s okay.  My God can handle it.

I do this.  I “ugly cry” to my God.  I let the feelings surface.  I experience the disappointment.  I sit in it.  It is raw.  I thank God the kids are napping and I sob some more. 

Deep breath.  I remember.  He is for me.  He created me.  He gave me my gifts, my talents.  I have purpose.  He wants to use those things for His good...and I want that too.

I remember Easter is coming.  We celebrate the fact that Jesus died for us.  He had to.  “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed.  But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”  He died for me so I may have a new life...one where a crop can be produced if I choose to follow Him.

Matthew 16:24
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."


The cross.


Jesus died and was raised so that when I lose my earthly life I too am raised with Him.  Victory over our sin.  Victory over death.  Grace so undeserved.  Love so generously poured out.

The least I can do is offer him all of me.  Every last toe-tapping, jazz-handing, show tune signing bit. 

So today I mourn and offer up my disappointment.  But then I remember what someone once told me, “A disappointment means it just wasn’t your appointment.”

As the grief subsides the joy sinks in.  I remember that He is not done with me yet and I look forward as I let go.

I will keep singing.  Loudly and brightly, belting out so the world can hear me.  I have good reason to sing.




1 comment:

  1. No words have ever spoken such truth. I just finished my fifth of my six day work week, and while I am grateful for this job and it fulfills a certain aspect of professional achievement, I can't help but think of all the books that go unwritten.

    I sit and compare (tisk tisk, I know) to all those who have success among the throngs of the literary world, and I wonder why I couldn't be included. Why was my number never called? Or will it ever be?

    My heart used to ache to be closer to what I used to know, I craved the familiarity and steady ebb and flow. God took me out of my comfort zone, from the place I knew like the back of my hand, and placed me in a place I grew to love. I had to remove myself from all distractions to see Him. To find peace. To forgive. To grow. To love Him and my husband more than I ever thought possible.

    When I think of those stories that go untold and the fame I thought I wanted, I remember how a family member said the book I wrote saved their life, physically and spiritually.

    And then it is all worth it.

    Sometimes what we think we want and what we are actually here to do are entirely different. And sometimes the path takes a few twists and turns, but will arrive at the destination.

    A friend of mine sent me this prayer awhile back, it rings true every.single.day

    I'll stay where You've put me: I will, dear Lord
    I'll bear the day's burden and heat,
    Always trusting You fully: when sunset has come
    I'll lay stalks of grain at Your feet.
    And then, when my earth work is ended and done,
    In the light of eternity's glow,
    Life's record all closed, I surely will find
    It was better to stay than to go;
    I'll stay where You've put me.

    Hugs, from Texas.

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