Summer

I have so much to catch up on.  My life has been saturated with the Badlands Passion Play.  It's been in my thoughts and heart more than I eat or sleep lately.  I must be riding on a double high of summer nights and outdoor theatre, and the sense of a job pinnacle and near finish.
I've had more fun wearing dresses to rehearsal and performances in the last few weeks.  I wasn't sure if I could still run and direct in them, but I can!
It's been an interesting experience starting the let-go right after the late night pushes.
I didn't know my job would entail late night directors meetings post sound meeting post production meeting post show.  Wow.  Two nights in a row I crawled into bed at 3:30am after emailing my notes off for proofing and posting.  Amazing.
And yet... I must be going off adrenaline, because I'm OK.  Yes, I'm sleepy and tired, but I'm thrilled too.
The play is spectacular in it's visual and aural impact.  And I'm so please many have come and enjoy it.
I think I partly love it because there are 2000+ people sitting in the same valley, participating in the same story, either telling it or watching it, and that is remarkable to me.  It makes me weep with the rare beauty of it.  And the weather --- no complaints.  In fact it's been perfect!  No wind.  Sun and warmth with evening coolness, and shade when I needed it.  I feel blessed.
The full moon last week was another beauty, and my heart and mind were so full last night, along with the charged air from a long awaited storm, there was no sleep to be had.  None.  Until about 5am.
Today I went for a brief walk and then had to run. (for a bit anyway).  I love it when that happens.  My spirit and body coincided with the same urge to run, to feel the breeze, to move, to feel strong and agile... at least for a bit.
Summer.
You are here.
I see it in the growth in my garden: thick green tomato branches, bushy cucumbers, new pepper leaves and curling, furling wine colored beet tops!  The earth is wet and warm and I can almost hear the roots drinking and growing from last night's down pour.
I should have taken pictures relevant to my ramblings, but alas, my camera is nearly kaput.  It can not hold a charge for more than 20 seconds.
So instead, I share some overdue photos of Donovan and Weston's last day of school and our family picnic under the snow from the cottonwoods at Partici Park.  Different story, but similar feel to the abundant sunny blessings I feel now,
even in the midst of my tiredness
I feel so alive.
Like the plants in my garden, I thrive on the abundance of light and the sudden surprise of water.
I long to remember these warm fragrant nights in the dead of winter and be ever grateful to soak up the sweetness of life and love when it is offered.
I think I must be near to the center of what I'm made to do when I feel this good.
Thank you Lord

And thanks to Dave too for letting me work full time for a bit.

If we would just sit still.

Rain is falling steadily outside.  I could almost taste it coming all day.  I didn't think I would write my blog today as I'm trying to eek out my play before Saturday... but I found some pics of the Passion Play from Randall's website and they were too cute to pass up.

Oh, and the top one is Weston's prize radishes he grew in a pot!

The photos of the guys on the rock is totally typical.  They loved that rock.  Donovan would nestle into that niche whenever we'd stop for notes in rehearsal.

In the crowd scenes, we were assigned to a tribe and where your tribe went, you went.  Not for my boys.  They liked to climb the rocks.  So inadvertently, we staged ourselves in both the baptism and beatitudes scenes perched on rocks, which they loved and I thought made for a good stage picture.  I knew in the back of my mind that we were always on probation though.  If they played too much and didn't give focus to the action, we'd have to go blend in with our tribe and sit still.

It was fun to hear the boys play Market scene in the days following.  "You may not take merchandise through this temple" (crash goes the sofa cushion!)  "My father's house is a house of prayer!" (another sofa cushion goes flying.)

The other day Weston said, "Mom, I know how God talks to you."  "Oh really? How?"  "By the thoughts that come to you when you're sitting still outside." "Wow, Weston.  I think you're exactly right!"  "I just discovered that when I was outside and I stopped to listen for a bit."  "Way to go, dude.  Way to go."

I think I could use Weston's advice.  I guess my boys really can sit still when they have a mind to.

Being in the Story...

If you look close in two of these pictures you'll see a mother with two little Jewish boys in orange.  That's the boys and I.  Steve Waldschmidt is Jesus and Lenette Randall is Mary Magdalene.  Mitch and Nick Sommer are Peter and John, and Tim Hildebrand is Matthew, the chief storyteller.

It's something to know bits of the story and talk about it.  It's also something to help bring it to life and give it voice in church like I do sometimes with drama ministry in Rosebud.

It's another something to be inside it.
It's still a pride struggle for me at times being in the chorus.  I get treated like most chorus folk where it's assumed they don't have a degree in acting or have professional experience.  But deep inside I know it's good for me.  It helps when you're in a huge natural ampitheatre surrounded by painted hills and a few stray seagulls and crows - out in the dirt and the heat, asking Jesus to heal your baby that has just stopped breathing.  Suddenly the magnitude of the possibility, ...the truth and the humaness and our crying out for the Divine... it all becomes more tangible.  More real.

Thank goodness there is enough of a routine now with the run throughs that the boys know what to expect.  And they do a good job.  I hope it doesn't get old for them.  There's only five shows left!

It's good for me to be one of the crowd.  I experience a lot.  I'm amazed at Jesus and his tireless healing, his gracious spirit and his daring words: Forgive, Love (even your enemies), Go.  It really makes one think when he says these things to your face, waiting for a recognition of their truth.
I can't get around the fact that Jesus' way while on earth was one of frequent sacrifice.  I don't want to follow him to the cross; I'd rather die in my sleep.

During his second trial before Pilate, my character is torn.  I'm afraid, but I still try at first to quell the crowd around me to not shout for his crucifixion like the Pharisees have bribed them to shout, but to reason with them about his innocence and goodness.  Soon I get swallowed up in a swirling of shouts and anger and my heart rises to my throat as I feel so small and overwhelmed by the incensed masses.

On the drive home Donovan says,  "Mom, I'm glad your character tries to say No.  That's what I would do.  Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know, Donovan.  I sure hope so."