Yeah! It snowed on Sunday. It was so cozy to be inside at church, soup and buns simmering in the kitchen and have a service with a fun puppet show, creative music with a stand up bass and a hymn story and song by Andrea. I love the originality and the personal sharing; that's what makes the gospel relevant and alive to me. I liked seeing all the white outside and soft flakes falling and having everyone gather around tables and chatting, or quietly sharing deeper hurts and fears in the sanctuary away from the bluster of kids and crockery. Church lasted long and no one seemed to mind. It was nice to be inside together before the obligations of the week kick in. It's December and for most of us that means a whirlwind of activity, but for kids like Weston, snow means: "play, play, play, play, PLAY!" By nightfall, the snow was deep enough to sled and the boys wasted no time covering their skin and sliding down the backyard slope in the dark! I had to chuckle.
I was having a odd time that night because I was staying home to rest my voice from and important choral concert. I felt bad, and I couldn't really rest my voice without Dave home, so instead I was with the boys and feeling truant. Nonetheless, I did get some extra lie down time and I'm just praying that I will recover my sound by Wednesday matinee. More likely, I will muddle through like I did last week with the feeling of "half voice" but nobody seems to mind except me. It's just a bit too much performing, and I won't have adequate time to recover before the end of the run. The end is in sight, though. I think I did buy a bit too much for Christmas and Dave set me to thinking about this yesterday on the way back from Drum. Thankfully I got in for a massage and chiro adjustment, the only troubling thing being the snowy crusty roads, so relaxing in my car seat was a constant mental challenge.
Yesterday evening we attended a high school musical of "A Christmas Carol" directed by our friend Deanne. Many Rosebud friends were in the chorus and the music was sparkly and fun. My favorite moment was when the ghost of Christmas Past swung out over the lower audience on a long ribbon. She did many different swinging poses and it was sheer magic with its graceful simplicity. I was also struck when the little Cratchit girl came out in her little bonnet singing with a clear sweet voice. The innocence of children always works, on stage and in life. I was moved by the story, even though the production was lacking in commitment and professionalism.
Today the snow is still on the ground and Donovan is a trooper for getting up so early after a late night. Weston slept in a bit and my Greek class went well. Of course it always really gets rolling 2/3rds the way in so I always want more time by the end. I think they were inspired, though. I sure was. I loved seeing all of them in their masks. So powerful. The masks almost dictate the size and style of expression. It was so apparent to me that conversational contemporary acting in profile was NOT working. They needed to show their masked faces to the house and let their bodies come into strong poses. Suddenly I could see the need for this style in a 14,ooo seat ampitheater. No wonder the expression was so big!
The term is pressing for the finish line now. You can sense it in the air. The students are panicked and overwhelmed, but suddenly cranking out some of their best work! Sammantha had a great breakthrough today in coaching, just by finally launching and "staying in the river" of instinct and not stepping out to comment or judge. This is an important freedom place for her, oooh, I hope she can find it again and again. Today I filmed her as well. We'll watch it tonight and hopefully she'll be encouraged that her "big" choices are really just right and clear.
Donovan is clamoring for the computer, and he's had a big day at school, so I'd better sign off. The other daylight shot is of Weston at the bottom of the hill behind the Community Center with Leila's toboggan. Oh, he loves it. The other day when it snowed just a bit of powdered sugar fluff he turned to me with shiny eyes and said, "Mom, can we live here forever?" Whether we want it or not, Dave and I have a couple of "Alberta boys" on our hands.
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