Now for an update.
I promise, I’ll be back to poems and fiction and funny little essays tomorrow. But since I asked my lovely readers to pray for me, I figured I’d better follow up with the end result of their prayers.
Apparently God wants me in a musical, because I’m in one. This semester I will be taking the role of Meg March from the Broadway musical adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. I’m so excited I can’t see straight.
There’s a funny story behind this role. Perhaps it’s only funny to me, but I’ll share it anyways. From my first semester onward, I have tried out for campus plays. Shakespeare productions, musicals, new plays, old plays, graduate projects—you name it, if there were tryouts, I was there. I’ve been in a play almost every semester of my college experience. I’ve been the ghost of an aborted baby, a big sister, a Breve-Bunny-buyer, Death, and a unicorn. Call me flexible.
The dream, though, was to be in a Shakespeare production. Did this happen? Nope. Why? Too few parts for the ladies, and the female roles always went to someone else.
My rant for the last three years of my life has been, “Man, they really ought to do something with a mostly female cast for once, just to give the girls on this campus a chance to be in something. They should do Little Women. That would fit the bill.”
So someone is directing Little Women.
And I’m in it.
Being in this production is an answer to my private prayers. I love acting, I’ve always wanted to be in a musical—but I never thought I’d get a chance to do it in college, and goodness knows all of my chances for being in one after college would be nonexistent. I had a desire in my heart that I couldn’t set on a shelf and forget about, and God chose to fulfill that desire instead of removing it. He does that kind of thing very often in my life. I am grateful beyond words.
As thrilled as I am (and believe me, I’m thrilled—I’ve walked up to total strangers and told them I made it into the production), I’m wondering if this will turn into a classic case of “Be careful what you wish for.” Not only must I sing and act, I must dance while singing and acting. I can’t even sing and walk up the stairs at the same time. Meg is a romantic role, which, um, I’m not used to—in plays, I’m always the unlovable villain or perpetually single unicorn. This role will stretch me, if not even throw me into a blender and pour me out an entirely new creation. It will be an exhausting, stretching, grueling, overwhelming experience.
I cannot wait to get started.