I am so proud of you!
I had heard there were going to be auditions for the children's musical, "Junie B. Jones." The community theatre here in Poteau is producing it.
When I asked you if you were interested in auditioning, you were very enthusiastic!
I explained the auditioning process--that it might be difficult to actually get the part, but you were not swayed: you wanted to audition, come what may!
The evening of the audition, we went to the Poteau High School choir room. You were dressed in this cute but comfortable outfit that was, I thought, "so you" when I went to Walmart to find you something new to wear.
I had looked at outfits that really weren't you--some of the clothes were animal print and "racy" for your age (not you); several were "church dresses" (fine for Sundays, but not your style throughout the week); some were too "branded"(you love Minnie and Frozen, but I wasn't sure that was the vibe you wanted to send). As I looked through the racks and shelves of clothes, I found that I was faced with a serious decision: Do I dress you up to be someone you're not? Or do I find something that is YOU?
There were so many things to choose from that I just stopped and prayed.
That was when I found a really cute shirt (with the Minions on it!) and a pair of jeans. The shirt was PERFECT. It had all of the Minions on it, but they were all making faces, "acting faces," and the shirt colors were among your favorites: purple and gray. It was three-quarters sleeve, a baseball style shirt, and it looked just like you: cute, laid back, and sassy.
Everyting started coming together--I found socks and shoes rather easily--and I made it home to change you just in time to get to auditions.
We signed the list and filled out a questionairre and then sat in the floor of a hallway for about an hour awaiting your turn to audition.
There were some things I had to talk to you about: They weren't going to allow me to come in to the audition to watch--or help--with your first audition. So I wanted to make sure that you understood that you needed to smile and speak (and speak loudly and clearly/articulately when you did) when they asked. I also let you know about the auditioning process: I knew they were going to ask you to sing and read.
No matter what I said, you were nonplussed. You just looked at me in the way that you do and said, "Okay, mom." You were so calm the entire time we waited, actually.
I was the one battling nerves, but not you.
And when it was time for you to go audition, you just got up and went on in there like you'd been doing this all your life.
There you were, six years old. You often say to me, "I'm six years old, and I know what I'm doing." You sure seemed to know exactly what you were doing that night!
I waited a long twenty minutes or so in the hallway--they wouldn't let parents peer in through the door or stand too close to it--just praying that you were okay, comfortable, appreciated, welcomed.
And then, after a long wait, here you came--out the door with a big smile on your face!
(I was so relieved!)
Two of the older girls that helped with the auditions found me and told me how cute you were! I thought, "Well, that's a good sign!"
And then, on the way home, I asked you what had happened, and you told me that you had sang (in front of total strangers!) your ABCs to P and read for two parts! You said things like, "I read for the part of Ms. Whatshername (though you knew her actual name). And you told me:
"The big kids helped me with words I didn't know." (You'd gone in with four other kids who were much older than you--sixth-eighth grade!)
"How many words didn't you know?" I asked.
"Three," you said, confidently.
I couldn't believe it. You sounded like a pro, like you'd done this a million times!
At the end of your audition, the director had come outside and looked the four parents who remained in the hallway in the eyes and said, "Parents, we had so many children come and audition. This is going to be a very difficult cast to choose. We had lots of talented new faces...." I already knew what she was saying. The Junie B. Jones books are so successful, tons of kids came out to be a part of the production! When I looked at the sign up sheet when we got there, I estimated there to be about 50 kids auditioning.
We waited with everyone else the three long days for the cast list to be posted.
You weren't on it.
You told me that morning when I talked to you, when I tried to explain that you weren't going to be in the show but we would go watch it, "I'm okay, Mom."
You're so grown up already.
Your words made me feel much better about the entire thing. I had wanted you to be in that show so badly--I thought it would be a great First Show with which to get involved, but it just wasn't God's Will for now, was it?
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Days before the audition, you and I had been discussing this new opportunity and the auditioning process. You were so excited. I tried to give you some idea of what it meant to be in a show. But I kept explaining that, "Even if you don't get a part, we will still go see it, okay?"
And that's when we held hands and prayed. We prayed for God's Will, not ours, in this situation. We prayed for favor (which you received) and the Right Thing to happen.
And it did.
One of the things I wanted you to know, Psalm: We trust God in EVERYthing. In EVERY part (no pun intended, it just worked out that way) of our lives, we give it to Him. He knows what's best. We can TRUST HIM.
I love you, kid.
You bless my heart every day.
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Post Script:
I am reminded about the passage in the Bible that says that all of the stories of Jesus are not recorded in the Bible--if they were, they would fill a huge book! That's how I feel about this blog, sissy. I wish I could sit down and record all of the wonderful stories about your life, every day! You are wonderful every single day. You bless me every moment of every day. I love you so much, my darling girl. So, so much!
