November 14, 2010

     Ever have one of those days? I’d spent all week listening to my practice tapes and going over Ian’s blocking instructions. Finally I was off book. I’d memorized the entire play. Then off to the market to get my secret prayer partner his favorite treats. I need him to know I was there and was lifting his requests to the throne of my Father in Heaven.

     Anyone who’s ever worked with Masquers knows there are three things you must bring to every rehearsal. A pencil, an eraser, and your script. I’ve never had a problem with this as I have a passion for drawing. Paper & pencils are my friends and erasers were divinely inspired.

     Today my neighbor surprised and delighted me when she asked if she could join us for church. Yes! I quickly switched my plans around to accommodate this dear lady. In my excitement, I called for my husband to grab my traveling bag for rehearsal. We enjoyed a wonderful service and grabbed a quick lunch. She asked if she could come back. We were thrilled. John dropped me off at the theater right on time and left to take our neighbor home.

     I sat down and opened my bag. There it was… mocking me… my writing class lessons for the following Saturday. No script. No candy. No pencil. We had grabbed the wrong bag! Ian was already giving us our marching orders, so I decided to bluff it out. I said a quick prayer and went to the pre-school / music room. Turns out I did know the music, yet I remained nervous about my missing notes. When we took to the stage I grabbed a correction pen and a student’s homework. The blocking we received was easy, no dancing involved. Ian said nothing. Maybe I squeaked by.

     My secret prayer partner left my lots of nuts!!!! Just what my sagging spirit needed. Anyone who knows me knows my addiction to salt products. Chips of any kind are deadly. But nuts are different. There’s a food quality to nuts that my brain registers as salty but controllable. Now what do I tell my secret prayer partner next week when he has a sugar melt down with two bags of candy?

November 7, 2010

     We learned to dance today. I like telling myself that.

     Every day, millions of children are tragically born without a sense of rhythm. With love and training they can grow up to lead full and productive lives. Sadly, I am one of those poor unfortunate creatures.  

     Many years ago I had both rhythm and a waist line. I loved to dance. Time and arthritis are harsh taskmasters. I sat on the stage bench, watching the jazz age number unfold before me. The steps Ian assigned me were mercifully simple. Two steps to the right. Two steps to the left. Repeat. To my horror I’d lost my right foot and grown an extra left.

     I’ve spent much of this week practicing this most difficult move. My husband asked me several times what I was doing. He even offered to find some medicine for me if I just sat down and acted normal. Now there’s an Oscar worthy command performance.

October 24, 2010

     What a week.

     Monday I couldn’t understand why my leg itched. Finally, I check it out only to find a nasty rash around my scar. I went to the Doctor’s clinic only to be told my wound was infected and I needed to go back to the surgeon’s clinic. I got an appointment for Friday though I had no way to get there. A quick word of prayer and I turned my mind to all things Masquer. I loaded up my rehearsal CD only to find it skips throughout the entire score. Thank the Lord it wasn’t bad enough to keep me from working on memorizing the first three songs.

     Trying to be a good girl and not scratch, I spent much of the week going over the notes on stage blocking. I always write them in pencil because Ian has been known to change his mind. In my mind I ran and reran my cues. Where I stand when I first sing, Celebrate. Where to move when we break into parts. The spot I march to in a perfect clock-like rotation only to stop crisply, face the audience, and remind them to Celebrate. Finally, I wind up in my starting position, my alto with attitude checking to see if everybody is Celebrating. From there I disappear through the same side door from which I made my grand entrance.

     Did you know being on stage isn’t just knowing your lines and where to stand? Even as a wandering ensemble player you need to be somebody. Preferably somebody coming from somewhere and going somewhere else. My first scene is in a mall. Unfortunately, after spending so many years working in retail, my first thought was I’ll be a shopkeeper. I can hand out candy canes with my ½ off sale ads tied on with green ribbon.

     Did you know that many times you need to rethink even the most brilliant sounding ideas? This isn’t about making money! It’s about Celebrating God! Remember??? Celebrate! I sat home, still not scratching, asking myself why I was so happy in a crowded mall on the last shopping day before Christmas. A Halloween card from my family saved the day. It was so obvious. Pictures. Loving memories of my grandchildren. I couldn’t wait to share them with everybody, at least everybody in my section.

     So Friday rolls around and a neighbor who has no car suddenly receives one from her daughter. Thank God. We go to the surgeon’s clinic and I’m checked out by three Doctors. A surgeon, a wound specialist, and an infectious disease doctor. They can’t believe my wound has never closed over. Before I knew what was happening, I was flipped onto my face over an examination table. I was given a “local” and they were cutting away at my wound mumbling about my mussel not coming together.

     Come Together, RIGHT NOW, over me.

     Sorry, but it had to be said…or sung.

     Once my leg’s open, they shoved a q-tip in to check how deep the stubborn mussel ran. One doctor told me this would be the last time I’d be cut open and to make an appointment for next Friday. Another doctor said I had a simple staff infection that had run close, but not into my wound. No big deal. A fifty dollar cream and some anti-itching pills would be ready for me when I left. The final doctor dressed my leg in a sock so tight, I had to brace myself against the table and plant my foot squarely against the doctor’s chest as he showed me how easy it was to put on.

     Sunday morning, I’m sitting in church, determined to make it through the day. Remember the anti-itch pills? They had a side-effect. Take one every 6 – 8 hours and zzzzzzzzzzzzz. What? Oh, yeah. Masquers. I’ll have lunch and…….zzzzzzzzzzz. What was my line? Where do I Stand? Is there a nearby cot? Sadly, I wound up going home and back to bed. I’ll keep working on the soundtract and refresh myself with Ian’s blocking then I can zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

October 17, 2010

     Rehearsals began in earnest today. I came early, as I usually do, in order to sit and visit with my fellow Masquer buddies. I was twice attacked by the tickle monster, a toddler named Grace. This baby Masquer has practically grown up on our stage and is a favorite of mine as she reminds me of my own granddaughter. Ian walked to the front of the fellowship hall and I took a deep breath.

     Here we go.

     Ian calls on a young man named Will to open with prayer. He says a simple, yet heartfelt blessing over us and our work. There is a special plea for peace over the pastor and his family of our church whose 28 year old son passed away suddenly. With the prayer over we are encouraged to attend the memorial.

     On to work. We do breathing exercises and body stretches. I have lung and leg problems, so they allow me the freedom to do only what I think I can. Though I used a chair, I did better than just doing deep breathing. I feel rather proud of myself.

     Next we split into groups. The principal actors go to the stage with Ian to run their lines and blocking. I’m in the ensemble. I follow our music director, Yvonne into another room where we study our songs. Many of us, like me, do not read music. Some don’t even have a clue what their vocal pitch is. No problem. We are all here to learn and Yvonne is a wonderful teacher. We are put into groups and I am delighted to find another woman who sings tenor! I call us altos with attitude.

     There is a lot of joking and laughter when little Gracie’s toy breaks out with “How Much is That Doggie in the Window?” and we all answer “The one with the wagglie tail?” Sara swooped her daughter and the singing dog out the side door so fast she looked like a blonde blur.

     The music appeared complicated, but after breaking it into smaller parts I quickly learned the piece. Okay… I had Yvonne play a couple bits over for me… very slowly. She smiled as she played the part and sang along with me until I got it. Ian came in once or twice to check our progress. When everyone was happy with our work we took a break.

     Now, onto the stage.

     We learn what to do as we sing our glorious entrance song that is so peppy it could be used in a Muppet movie. We are given numbers and become small clusters of happy shoppers in a mall. We stroll in from all sides of the stag until we meat center stage and sing. We are placed into new positions and I shuffle rhythmaticly across the stage hoping to remember where to stop and sing again.

     This is combined with the principal actors doing their parts. For the first time I can see the masterpiece that will become a crowd pleasing, God centered play. Finally, Ian gives us his memos. He suggests we are not all shopping at Hickory Farms. A young man quips “So we cut the cheese?” Everyone dissolves in laughter. I take my script and music CD home still panting. By the end of the day I’m hot, out of breath, and my mussels are screaming in protest.

     I’ve never been happier.

Returning to the Stage, October 10, 2010

     Not normally a nervous person, I wasn’t sure how to deal with my sudden attack of the jitters. During my three months in the hospital and four more under house arrest, I thought of little else than getting back to my Masquer buddies. I both knew and loved these people, yet my hands were shaking.

     Me!

     Everyone had a Spiritual gift. Turned out, mine was creativity. I made pretty pictures, sang in the choir and did Vacation Bible School skits. What ministry did I have left when our choir turned into a small but talented praise team and younger more energetic people took control of VBS?

     I prayed for a Christian Drama Team, one where I could put my skills to work in the service of God. Masquer Ministries proved to be the answer to my ten year prayer.

     From the beginning, they made me feel relaxed. In spite of my limp and inability to stand for long, my new friends accepted me. I received rolls tailor made for me and my special needs. The prayer and support they gave me quickly turned them into my beloved family.

     Unfortunately, due to a tiny spider bite I didn’t even feel, I almost lost my leg. The months passed and I witnessed to my fellow patience’s and hospital staff using tunes I’d learned through Masquer plays. As I got better, I found myself in a continuing care facility and the music followed. Complications in my blood set in and I went back to the hospital. By now the songs God had given became very important to me. My medications made it impossible to read my Bible and I drifted off to sleep during my prayer time.

     I fell into questioning myself. Through it all, my mind remained focused on the two places I felt the most at home, church and Masquer Ministries. Would I be able to return? Would they take a chance on using me with my health? Had everything changed?

     Then I got the e-mail.

     “You are invited to the first rehearsal for our Christmas production Sunday October 10, 2010. We will meet from 1:30 to 5:00. Hope to see you there.”

     I squealed so loud my husband thought I’d fallen and couldn’t get up. I danced… okay… I rhythmaticly shuffled around the house all day. As the day approached, my newly discovered nerves returned. During Sunday services, I listened to the pastor as he spoke of God’s perfect timing. It rarely matches with our own sense of urgency. Had my time passed?

     Church service ended. I grabbed a quick lunch and took a seat at the end of the large Masquer table. Ian, the director and producer of our troop, walked by and I offered what I hoped looked like a confident friendly wave. He smiled and returned the gesture before disappearing behind the thick stage curtains. The lump in my throat relaxed enough for me to choke down the rest of my burger.

     Then something warm and loving enfolded me from behind. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Nik. This wonderful young man had never forgotten me. How many times had I received his messages of support in the hospitals and at home? I’d lost track. Nik and I shared what was happening in our lives. We followed up with an impromptu prayer. A third immediately joined us and we became a small group of friends.

     By the time Ian took his place at the head of the table to pray a blessing on our efforts, I was laughing and having a ball. I knew some of these people very well. Others, I had only just met. There sat the young and the old; the shy and the bold. We had all gathered for one purpose, to give our talents in a worshipful witness of Jesus Christ. No matter what the case was, God was in control as I sat surrounded by my family.

     What on earth was I afraid of?