arrival

The curtain closes, the set comes down. The applause fades, we pack up our costumes, and go home. Less than a week ago, we were eagerly anticipating opening night. Exactly a week ago, at this time, we were barely on our way home from the final dress rehearsal- our heads filled with the list of tasks yet to complete and final trouble spots to correct. But now, every moment is reduced to a memory, that which cannot be grasped by our hands- only treasured in our hearts.

I hope you were able to see "Journey to the Manger" and share this memory with us. If you're interested, you can check out photos from the show here.

Everything went well during the run. Of course, there were a few unexpected challenges, but that's the beauty of live theatre. That's what makes it better than a polished, edited film. It's real, it's raw, it's genuine. Creating a stage effect in front of an audience takes quite a bit more ingenuity that a computer generated image in a movie. And experiencing real emotion from a real person is not something you can find inside a cinema (though I'm also a film student, and can argue the many benefits of that media form as well!).

But I'm straying from the topic. From the rush of opening night to the audience reactions after the show closed, "Journey" was blessed. From the after-show cast dinners at Denny's to the heartfelt gifts from secret prayer partners, "Journey" was a blessing. In between, onstage, backstage, and in the house, the Holy Spirit was present. The magic when a musical number is perfectly executed, the camaraderie in the dressing room amid make-up and curling irons, the quick stop of the heart when something goes wrong and the giggles that follow it later (because you know, it's always something we'll look back upon and laugh), and the feel of the stage lights in your eyes...... there are so many things that cannot be accurately conveyed through words. Being part of a show is an incredible event. Being part of a ministry is an amazing blessing. Being part of Masquer.... that's something for which I will always thank God.

I pray you got something from this journey, as well. Ultimately, I hope you end your travels at the manger. Lying in simple straw is more than a fragile, holy baby. There's peace on a silent night, joy for the world, and love bigger than our hearts can hold.

In a couple of months, we'll be following that Baby as He grows up to change the world- and OUR lives- through the original production, Risen. I hope you'll come along.

Merry Christmas!

wide open

I opened my eyes as the sun filtered in through my window blinds. "Opening Night!" was the first coherent thought to surface (ok, semi-coherent). My life has held many opening nights, but something about that phrase makes the day seem a little special.

Almost.

After the rest of my thoughts reached some state of coherency, the day began:

-coordinate schedules with my roommate, Kelly (who is the assistant director for "Journey")

-organize and pack everything I will need for work and the show, since I will not be home until late tonight (who am I kidding? early this morning is more accurate)

-walk down the street to the farmers' market for a few healthy groceries

-double check every detail... make-up, costume pieces, something for my secret prayer partner, laptop, notebooks, cell phone, keys....... (oh, shoot! I just realized that I forgot to pack Miracle, my special teddy bear that always attends opening night)

While focused on executing the details, today became like any other. Kelly corrected me every time I mentioned going to rehearsal tonight.

"You mean the show. We're performing."

"Oh, yeah. That's what I meant. [insert whatever was really concerning me]"

Between now and this evening, I will regain the adrenaline and excitement of opening night. I hope it's a proper amount of enthusiasm. It's not as if I am not looking forward to this weekend's performances (I am) or thrilled to be presenting our story to an audience (I am). I've just somehow dulled the specialness with my attitude and overload of the everything-else. It happens at Christmas. It happens at church. It can happen in so many areas of life. We have misplaced the sacred things and made them commonplace. Is it possible to reclaim the magic of Christmas we experienced in childhood? How do we balance a close relationship with a friendly God and a respectful fear of the same Almighty Creator?

I'll start with opening night. At least, as soon as I get off work. And pick up Kelly. And drive through traffic. Somewhere in the midst of the daily chaos lies a tiny piece of the sacred. And you will find some of the sacred tonight, at the Candlewood Theater. I hope you'll come and share it with me.