Monday, May 28, 2012

Lesson from my Lesser Self

My lesser self is always present. Sometimes her voice is louder than others and most often, the darkest thoughts never get aired to anyone. This time, because there was a valuable lesson I learned midstream (with help of a gut-punch from God), it's worth sharing.

I'd bought box seats for the Kristin Chenoweth concert. She's such a tiny little 'thang that I wanted to make sure someone's head wasn't obscuring our view. Once seated, I was pleased.. I was concerned about how to get Patty quickly down to the stage and took the time to discover a speedy way downstairs. (See previous blog if you don't understand what I just said.) I was more than just excited about a wonderful show. I was nervous about the potential of having a sold out crowd stare directly at me while I sold my star to Kristin at the appropriate moment. (Again. see previous blog.)

It's important to point out that I have three serious peeves during indoor performances:

1. People who smack their gum. To be really honest, that bugs me all the time. A lot.
2. People who talk loudly and often.
3. People that sing along with the soloist or group. I've been known to turn around and with a smile say, "If I'd wanted to hear you sing, I'd have bought tickets to your concert."

The lights were down, the intro video had aired and Kristin was onstage in all her tiny glory. Even with her Dolly sized wig, she couldn't have weighed more than 85 pounds. Darling. I was in awe of the power of the voice blasting out of that body when I heard loud talking. 

#2!

#2 can be forgivable if it happens early and just once. Patty noticed too and we shared concerned frowns. The next few times I gave the "over the shoulder slight grimaced look" to the offender. 

When #3 peeve began, I was only slightly relieved that Patty couldn't hear the voice. It was monotone and consistent.

I did my best to focus so fully on the good things of the concert, that I'd "rise above" the uncivilized person behind me. 

I was more than annoyed before intermission and I told Patty I was ready to "pummel the person behind me." Not kidding.

There were two particularly moving songs that I was focusing on when I heard in my heart, "Lori, consider the other person's story before you open your mouth." Just after, I heard an elderly woman's voice say, "Don't sing so loudly." The voice was loving, yet firm. I had that aha moment. "There is something wrong there, Lori. Stop judging and acting like an idiot."

As we were getting up for intermission, I told Patty my suspicion. I bent down to get my 20 pound purse and glanced over to see a grey haired woman with a worn face and the sweetest eyes smiling at me. My guess was she was in her late 70's or early 80's. Sitting next to her was a young man, probably 20-something. His eyes had the familiar double folds of a person with Down Syndrome. 

The young man was abeam with joy. I heard him say, "Momma, thanks for bringing me to see April." I remembered at once that I'd heard that same voice say during an ovation, "Way to go April." I won't air my thought at the time because it's too snarky and rude, especially in light of my new information.

April is a character that Kristin Chenoweth plays intermittently on Glee. Based on his comment, it's possible that Glee may have been this man's introduction to the talent of Kristin.

I'm sure the mother is no stranger to rude people and their inappropriate behavior to her child--even those who can look at him and recognize by sight that he has limitations. If I'd have been that mother, I'd have flashed a "go to Hades look" my way at intermission. She smiled at me, though.

I'm so grateful that I listened to God's instruction. Not simply because it altered my negative attitude; but, because knowing something of this woman and man's story enhanced the remainder of the show. Instead of feeling angry and annoyed, I was teary eyed with joy and tenderness. 

I listened as he sang with joy and intensity. His volume would be adjusted after I heard a quick "shhh" from his mother. He couldn't contain his excitement. I understood. 

I'd posted numerous times on Facebook about my evening. I'd told everyone who'd listen. I was downright giddy. In addition, before even considering whom I would be seated beside, I fully intended to do whatever was necessary to get Patty on the stage. Would this have been any less annoying to my fellow box seat patrons? Would I have been #2 on someone else's peeve list? I didn't want to contain my excitement about seeing my friend sing with a legend. I wanted to be a part of the story-telling that would get bolder and funnier over the years.

We're all limited. This young man's physical characteristics helped me understand something of his limitations. Yet, what about those who do not have tell-tale signs of a physical or mental issue? My limitations may not be so obvious to those seated around me in a public arena. But in a quiet place in my heart that night, I realized that I'm limited by myopic expectation for others to enhance my life experiences. I'm limited by my poor choices. I'm also limited because of my humanness. We all are. We can never know the full story of others, even those we know intimately. 

My lesser self taught me that grace is always the best response. I give God the credit for pulling me out of a shameful event if I hadn't listened. I'm so very grateful for a God who understand limitations like none other.

Philippians 2
Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB)

5 Make your own attitude that of Christ Jesus,
6 who, existing in the form of God,
did not consider equality with God 
as something to be used for His own advantage.
7 Instead He emptied Himself 
by assuming the form of a slave, 
taking on the likeness of men. 
And when He had come as a man
in His external form,
8 He humbled Himself by becoming obedient
to the point of death—
even to death on a cross.


The part I can never wrap my head around is that He did that for a woman who, without thought, would be willing to pummel an unseen, unknown stranger for potentially ruining her night out at the theater. On top of that He offers me a chance to become more like Him and less like the lesser me. That's astounding. 

With an eye towards lavishing more grace and more love to those around me, scattering dust that will be everlasting. ~lori

Saturday, May 26, 2012

A Lesson from a Non-Diva

For some reason, my muse is writing several blogs at once....(no, I do not believe in literal muses.)

Just for fun, though, let me update you on my sugar ants. They have been GONE for two months! I tried Keila's suggestion about a sugar solution mixed with Borax. It works so well and very quickly. Such relief.

It's very possible they've just moved next door to my neighbor's house. Maybe I should slip the recipe for sugar ant destruction in her mailbox?

Here's what I've been composing in my heart and head since last night. A little background is necessary-- especially for the other blog that the muse is writing.

I've been a fan of musical theater my whole life. If I could live my life as a musical, I would. Sometimes there is a pause in conversation that simply begs for a musical cue and melody. I'm quite positive that my life would have been without blemish if during the darkest of moments dancers had simply appeared and lifted me without effort. I would belt out my tune and simultaneously solve my momentary dilemma.

As a season subscriber to a Dallas theater company, I received advance opportunity back in March to purchase Kristin Chenoweth tickets. Kristin is a Jedi Master in musical theater. Without hesitation I bought the best seats available. (Yes, Mom, they were very expensive.) I immediately texted my dear friend Patty Breckenridge and invited her.

Patty was my instant choice because she is truly a star in her own right, not only as an accomplished, award winning actor and singer; more, as a stellar human being. I knew that she would match or surpass my enthusiasm--that's a task.

I've known Patty since she was in elementary school. I cherish time with her. My face and abs will often hurt after I've been with her because I've laughed so hard at her spot on impersonations of her family, even me. I'll often have learned an important life lesson or have something profound to chew on based on a comment she has made.

Another dear friend who knows Patty well saw Kristin in Houston the night before us. She texted and said, "Tell Patty to brush up on Elphaba's part in "For Good" for a duet with Kristin. They had four people near the front and Kristen picked the one who answered with confidence that she knew the part!" That text was copied and sent to Patty post haste.

I made up my mind that I would do whatever necessary to get Patty on that stage. That would include losing all sense of dignity and squandering meager self esteem to be noticed, loud, and oddly charming enough to convince Kristin that Patty was her girl.

I only needed to convince Patty. Much more, I wanted to make sure she really wanted me to risk my public humiliation to sing with Kristin.

Tunnel vision and creativity are both my friends and enemies. I chose to employ every method possible to convince Patty. These included, but were not limited to manipulation and strong arming. Although I had no input on her wardrobe choice, we both laughed aloud when I let her know I was glad she was Dallas snappy casual. L- "You won't look like you were planning to be on stage." (Which, of course she wasn't.)

True Kristin fans always have Wicked downloaded on their phones ready for car sing alongs. Patty humored me and "warmed up" in the car. At one point, I got to be Glinda and she was Elphaba. That, folks was the highlight of my night. Really.

Just as we'd been apprised, after intermission, Kristin asked for a volunteer to sing with her. Before Kristin had completed her invitation, a young girl catapulted herself from her seat to her sandals. Patty, ever so gently, but firmly, grabbed my right arm and shook her head with a firm "no". With hesitation, but the heart of a mother, I relented.

Kristin, with her arm wrapped tightly around the girl sang the first verse, offering support and confidence to a girl whose knees were trembling slightly. When the duet partner opened her mouth, we were all stunned. She had real talent. Jackie was so talented that Kristin felt compelled to tell the audience that her duet partner wasn't a "plant". At the end, while Kristin was smothering Jackie with a motherly bear hug, the audience rose to its feet and erupted with thunderous applause. It was easy to see that Kristin remembered what it was like to be a dreaming 14 year old. In darling diva fashion after having told the audience to remember Jackie's name she said, "Now. Get off the stage." Perfect.

Assuming I'd been successful--which frankly, I WOULD HAVE BEEN! Patty gave Jackie, the 14 year old Broadway wannabe the pinnacle experience of her life. Patty also offered her old friend Lori a gift in return. I was able to relish the moments of watching a dream come true for a little girl--a little girl with this memory and only dreams ahead of her. I also witnessed the stars in Patty's eyes twinkle as she leapt to her feet with a loud whoop. Patty remembered too.

See, this is a perfect Life is a Musical moment. Cue strings.

 "Because I knew you, I have been changed for good."