Goodbye, HST

I was waiting to post about HST until I was ready. I still don't think I'm totally ready, but here goes...

I have been blessed with HST for nine years. What began as, "Sure, Mom. I'll take an acting class," became hundreds of hours of work and play. I have been able to participate in nine Showcases (2 years Acting, 6 years Choir, 5 years jazz, 5 years tap, 3 years Irish, and 1 year of Dance Intensive), 3 Junior Troupe musicals, 4 Senior Troupe musicals, 2 AI Coffee House shows, and several Varity Shows. I have been in troupe with exactly 80 different people. I have had leads and chorus parts. I have sang solos and in 5 part harmonies. I have tap danced in overalls, tux t-shirts, fedoras, and while holding giant hearts. I have danced with a stroller, a glass, and a table in the same number. I have been in numbers such as "Mr. Roboto" by Styx to "You Make Me Feel So Young" by Frank Sinatra. The 13 minute DI number will always be a personal favorite for me.

Showcase finales in and of themselves are memorable. Bad example: I don't remember anything from my first finale except Mrs. Mullan frantically waving my line through the bow and offstage. I do, however, remember "Joy to the World," "Sing Sing Sing," "One," "Human" by the Killers, the random Japanese "Shining Star" one, "We Are Family," Wolf's amazing original "Can You Hear Me Now?," and that awful one we signed to while wearing various hats. I remember watching the "big kids" swing dance and Nick W. wearing that bullfrog hat. I remember the night the boys Tebow-ed at the end of the show. Most of all, I remember screaming with joy at the end of each Showcase performance once the curtain closed.

Junior Troupe memories are crazy. My first Jr. show was "The Lady Pirates of Captain Bree." That was a hoot. We had probably 25 kids with 12 names between us. It was great. I remember being on the younger side with a huge number of 8th graders. THAT was exciting. It was my first musical, and it made me love telling a story through theatre. The next year was "Tom Sawyer," and that was probably what got me hooked. I still love and stay in touch with pretty much everyone from that show. Eighth grade was "Snow White" year, and Mrs. B gave me a chance to push myself. I loved having a small cast (18 people) and a very colorful show. It was awesome. One of the best parts has been watching the youngest kids from that show grow up. The little cat was nine years old for that show - he's going to be a freshman in high school this fall!


 I joined Senior Troupe in HST's 15th season - just when Sr. was doing HST's 50th show! It was a milestone year, so we had to do a milestone show. We did "Crazy for You," which was HST's first ever dance-ical. With a psycho number of full cast dance numbers, including multiple tap numbers, CfY was a riot. I was shepherded by so many kind people who helped me find my footing in the deepend of the HST pool that is Senior Troupe. Thank you. You know who you are.


Sophomore year, we did "Little Women." I've already written a long post about my experience and the things I learned from that show. I guess I'll say: it was a huge blessing. Seriously. If you have a chance to even see that show, go. It was a very uplifting experience.

Last year we did "How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying." It was a bit of a rough transition from a spiritual, family-centered show that addressed real issues to a high-powered (see what I did there?) comedy. I admit, at first I was not completely sold. I mean, I had liked H2$ for a long time, and I was excited to be doing it, but as I said, it was a rough transition. I made it, however. It remains one of my favorite performance experiences. There were so many amazing people who participated in it. I loved it.

Lastly, "Gone with the Breeze." Oh, dear... It came as a shock. Doing a Pioneer Drama in Senior Troupe had become outdated and almost out of the question. Yet, here we were, working on one. We took a show with many flaws and carved, sanded, polished, and scrubbed it until it was beautiful. It was a great show, and I regret nothing. I don't mind that my lead was in a show future directors won't know. That's fine. I enjoyed learning, performing, choreographing, etc. in that show. It was a great experience. Also, the group of people was one of the best I've ever known.

I have met so many amazing people in HST or through mutual friends I know from HST. I cannot imagine what my life would be like without those people. I would probably be at school. I would know 1 person in my graduating class. They are all good people. When teens talk about peer pressue to do things they aren't comfortable with, I can't relate. My friends are people with high standards and Christian values. I have grown up with these people. I guess it's kind of like living in a small town - everyone goes all the way through school together. They all remember everyone's awkward phases, who they dated, and the changes they have made. But, HST is like a family in that they know all of those things, and they don't care. They love you anyway.

Not only have I met so many friends through HST, but I have been introduced to amazing, Christ-like women. They have shown me what it means to be a mother. They have proven to me that no one can tell me I am not good enough to teach and raise my own children. They have shown me how you can use your talents to serve others. They have taught me many, many lessons. Just to name a few: Mrs. Alexander, Mrs. Beardsley, Mrs. Rodriguez, Mrs. Bleakley, Mrs. Hackett, Mrs. Howard, Mrs. Burns, Sister Higham, Mrs. Hsu, Mrs. Tallman, Mrs. Elkan, Mrs. Atkinson, Mrs. Elhallal, Mrs. Neff, Mrs. Morrison, and Mrs. Robertson. That was just naming a few! Thank you so much, HST moms. You are the greatest. Thanks for doing an awesome job with your children. They are fantastic people.

I guess, I'm going to end this nostalgic trip down memory lane with an open letter to HST.

Dear HST,
Thank you. You have been a major part of my life for almost a decade. Thank you for teaching me that I love theatre. Thank you for teaching me that I can do anything I decide to. Thank you for helping me learn grace, kindness, service, and watching out for others. Thank you for allowing me to explore. Even though you knocked me on my butt a couple times, I forgive you. The positives outweigh the terrible moments. Thank you for creating a safe environment for me to grow into the woman I am and to meet amazing people. I will always remember you as a blessing, synonymous with both childhood and high school. I cannot wait to see what you create in the future. They are always beautiful. Keep on loving the way I know you do. You have something rare. It is not only special, it's sacred. I know that God smiles when He looks down on you. You are a training ground, an incubator for tools for His works. You have great things ahead of you.

I love you.
Sarah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Parable of the Tree

So, I haven't written in a while - I apologize. I'm writing now because I feel like I need to share something with the world, and what it is is this:

"Now, Sarah," you may ask, "Why the random picture of a tree?" I will explain, but let me tell you a story first.

There was a seed, planted in decent soil. It was a fair distance away from other plants, but still a part of the surroundings. It tried its very best to push through the soil to reach the sun. It was hard work! The seed was little, and the ground was thick and literally all-consuming. It often felt discouraged in the darkness. It saw the roots of other plants around it and thought "They are so much better than I am. They are strong. They made it. I wish I could be them. I will never see the sun." Still, everyday it soaked up the water that came trickling through the dirt, and kept pushing. "Why am I planted here?! This is the worst soil. It is hard and clay-like. There are roots everywhere that will choke me out, and I could get eaten by an animal! This is the worst place ever." The water kept coming and the seed kept growing.

One day, the seed finally broke the surface. It felt the warmth of the sun and the cool air blowing by. It had made it! "I did it! Wow, this is amazing! I wish I could've been planted over there, though. Then I could see the river better. That stinks." It kept growing from the water that came sprinkling down from above.

When it was a sapling, it experienced a heavy rainstorm. There was thunder that rattled its tender branches and the rain beat down on its little leaves. The little tree bent in the wind. It felt its roots being pulled against the ground. The sapling thought "Why is this happening to me?! This is so unfair. I am young still - I can't handle this. I shouldn't have to go through this." Eventually the storm subsided, and the sapling shuddered at how close its roots were to the surface. It knew it would take some time to recover from the trauma of the storm. The next morning, however, it found that dirt was mounded up around its base where its roots were weakest. "That's awesome! It must have blown there during the night. I'm so lucky."

A few years later, the sapling had become a young tree. It had a stronger trunk and many branches. It was proud of its height and sturdiness. Suddenly, it noticed a sharp pain coming from one of its branches. It was shocked to discover that the branch had been completely removed! "What is this?! I am perfectly healthy! I shouldn't be feeling this! This is painful! I don't like it! It needs to stop - NOW." Yet, it felt it again. A third time. A fourth. It resented the chopping of branches deeply.

Many years later, it had experienced many rainstorms, blizzards, and prunings. It had seen more beautiful plants than itself grow up around it. There were trees taller than it, and trees stronger than it. It saw plants struggle and die. It had been a home and shelter to countless birds and squirrels. It had seen its fruit be eaten by grateful animals, and also seen it sitting on the ground, going unappreciated. It had grown into what it was created to be.

One morning, an old man with kind eyes approached the tree. The tree noticed this man for the first time. "Hello, my friend," he said with a twinkle in his kind eyes. "Friend? Who is this man?" The old man sighed. "Don't you know me? I've known you a very long time. I planted you exactly where I knew you would do best. I cared for you. When you were struggling to sprout, I watered you. When you were tossed about by rain, I protected you. When you were growing, I pruned you to help you grow stronger. I've guided you on your journey from seed to tree. You have never been alone." The tree listened, stunned. "You are still that seed, but you have become something new. You are a tree - strong and beautiful. You serve others, as you were grown to do. You give, not only demand. You give even when others do not think they need it. I am proud of you and the tree you have grown to be." The gardener patted the trunk of the tree and whispered "I brought you to your potential with my sweat here in the garden. I worked very hard to support you when you needed me. You are very special to me." He stood in silence for a moment before turning and walking back toward his home. The tree looked back on its existence and realized all the times it had felt the hands of the gardener during its most difficult times. It was all true - the gardener had crafted it.

Now, I tell that story because I have been thinking recently about my own life. I have had trials and tests. I have been discouraged, stuck, called names, rejected, alone, and have torn myself down. Still, the hands of the Master Gardener have always been there, guiding, supporting, changing me. I have been pruned - weaknesses have been removed, fears and doubts have been silenced. It wasn't fun or easy, but it has happened. Sometimes, my burdens have been lifted, and other times I have been strengthened so I can bare them better. I have been blessed. I want to express my gratitude for that. I am far from perfect, but I have changed and grown. I hope I will be able to continue to grow into the woman that I am meant to be - a person that makes the Master proud.

Deer in the Headlights

There is another deer on the side of the road, slaughtered by its own daring. I imagine that it stood at the edge of the wood, eyeing the trees on the other side of the concrete river with longing. It saw the deer across feasting on flowers that seemed unending. That yellow line must be the boundary into a magical world. The poor thing must have begun to envy the way man envies. Like a Shakespearean tragic hero, he felt the tide of jealousy well up inside of him.

He must have the neighboring kingdom. He would stop at nothing to preside majestically over both realms. Why should he stop on this side of the stone creek? Even though the fast creatures with the bright yellow eyes came tearing down the smooth, grey surface, nothing would hold our hero back. He resolved to do what others warned against.

He knew it was possible to cross the road – he had seen it done. He has seen others rise to the challenge and complete it successfully. He is just as powerful as they are, just as strong, if not more so. He thought of his accomplishments, his women, his children, his territory. They are impressive by any standard. He had the record of excellence, why should he fear?

I believe that he stepped out into the road, not in a panic as he should have, but with his chest out before him. I believe that he did not look to see if one of those frightening beasts was racing toward him. I believe that he had forgotten reality in the moment of his self-validation. If only the prophets had warned the deer that pride cometh before a fall.

As a man going into debt, seeking the hand of a lover, or pursuing the ever elusive power and popularity, this buck sauntered onto the cement with his head held high, looking at those on the opposite side with contempt. Basking in the quickly oncoming light, he smirked in a self-satisfied way. It was all so easy.

Playing with Fire

There comes a moment in your life when you discover that there is a Katy Perry song that describes your dating experience. It is a sad, sad moment. There is also a moment when you are amazed at the resonance a P!nk song has with you. I don't know if you've ever had this experience before. I must confess that I have had this happen to me. I love the song "Try" by P!nk. The lyrics are as follows (The verses followed by the chorus at the end):

 

"Ever wonder about what he's doing?
How it all turned to lies.
Sometimes I think that it's better

To never ask why.

Funny how the heart can be deceiving,
More than just a couple times.
Why do we fall in love so easy
Even when it's not right?

Ever worried that it might be ruined
And does it make you wanna cry?
When you're out there doing what you're doing
Are you just getting by?
Tell me are you just getting by?

 

Where there is desire
There is gonna be a flame,
Where there is a flame
Someone's bound to get burned,
But just because it burns
Doesn't mean you're gonna die,
You've gotta get up and try"

 

 

So, why do I love this song so much? I'm not quite sure. It makes me want to dance in a way I haven't danced in a while. That is only part of it. I think that it is because of where I am right now. My high school experience has been amazing. I've loved it. Still, it has been a rollercoaster. I can think of three difference situations to apply to each of the three verses. I'm here, though. The chorus speaks a fundamental truth - wherever the stakes are high, there are high risks. High risks yield high rewards. Putting yourself out there is the only way you'll get what you want. You may fall, or get burned, sometimes, but it is so worth the risk. Even when you fail, you get the reward of learning from your mistakes! Isn't it amazing how that works? We got ourselves a pretty sweet deal.

 

I guess my point is that life is always good, even when it's hard. We have so much to be grateful for: our families, freedoms, faith, and friends. We can be grateful for our challenges, trials, failures, and successes. I think of "Meet the Robinsons." "That was a great failure!" Keep smiling - you are so loved. Don't ever forget that.

 

Happy Thanksgiving. I'm grateful for you.

 

S 

"An Apology"; also titled "Year of Joy: Update 2"

I'm sorry I've been awful recently... I've had a lot of thoughts worth sharing - I just struggle with putting them in order of priority. I'm going to go ahead and jump right in with a YoJ update.

Well, We are already at month four of my Year of Joy. Crazy. Since my last post, I've taken the ACT and SAT twice each. I've gotten into the swing of school and theatre. Op: Positivity has continue to grow. College apps are happening. I went to my first and last high school homecoming. We performed in the Variety Show. I've had some trials and I've been blessed.

Remember what I wrote about in my first two YoJ posts? The stuff about work and rewards? Yeah. I am going to repeat myself. IT IS SO TRUE. I have been so enormously blessed for my hard work. Let me tell you - it was HARD work. It was difficult to force myself to do what I knew I needed to. Our equation for joy was:

WORK + PLAY + FAITH = JOY

I want to add something to it. It should look more like this:

WORK + PLAY + FAITH(HUMILITY) = JOY

(I have a feeling we will be adding to this formula throughout the year.) I've discovered that when I am working hard, I need to remember to say "Thy will be done, o Lord" while going through "my" plans. I have to realize that my plans aren't mine at all. God's plan for me is better than any plan I could make for myself. Whether it means not doing as well as you could on a test the first time or drifting apart from friendships, it's in God's hands. Being blunt, humility can suck. But it is much, MUCH worse if you are prideful and Heavenly Father has to teach you to be humble. Make a choice for this week to not only be grateful, but to be humble. If things aren't working out the way you want them to, don't stress - He's got it covered.

Oh, and here's a YoJ picture for you. Talk about joy! (Hayride/bonfire/barn dance with church kids.)

Good Company

A thought for the moment:

“My idea of good company...is the company of clever, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.'
'You are mistaken,' said he gently, 'that is not good company, that is the best.”
― Jane Austen, Persuasion

COLUMBUS DAY?!

Happy Columbus Day? HAPPY COLUMBUS DAY?! How DARE you insult my 21st century morality and perspective by telling me to celebrate the arrival of an invader, conqueror, and thief!

Okay, wait. You mean Columbus wasn't out to steal from people? You mean Columbus didn't know he was carrying deadly illnesses to a people who had not yet built an immunity to it? You mean Columbus didn't realize that he was upsetting a way of life that had been in practice for hundreds of years? You mean that he might have actually thought that he was HELPING PEOPLE? What the-

I love history, and I have studied it in depth. My knowledge is not perfect, but I am passionate about the subject. One thing I've learned from my studies is that you cannot take the narrative as fact. You cannot only believe what you read in your 5th grade textbook. It has been dumbed down, and is typically rampantly biased either to the left or the right. As a student of history, you are a seeker of truth. You are looking for the answers to questions people have. Of course, history is a social science, and you have an issue called "perspective." Two people who witness the same event may recount it in completely different ways. The people hearing those retellings have their own beliefs through which the facts are filtered once again. Today, we try to judge historical players by our own code of morality. Is this fair? I want to write a little about Columbus Day.

Imagine landing on an alien planet similar to Earth when you didn't know you were going there. The inhabitants look different, speak a different language, and have a completely different lifestyle. You try to trade supplies with them, and they willingly give you diamonds and Chipotle burritos for raisins and pony beads. You can't believe your luck - these people are so kind! They seem to live in a way that would be considered poverty where you are from. You try to teach them how to build roads and install water pipes. You don't stop to think that your descendants will use this exchange to lambaste you for years to come.

I personally get offended when people speak of immigrants to the United States as "evil thieves". I understand the point that a way of life was terribly and cruelly disrupted. It makes me grieve to think of those who suffered injustices. Yet, I also have the opinion that the time has gone. Why should I feel guilty for the actions of people who lived hundreds of years before me? Why should I feel that I am a visitor or invader in my homeland? My literal ancestors came here in the 1600s to flee religious persecution and economic hardship, not greed. I had grandfathers who fought in the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and the World Wars. My own father served his country for 18 years as a federal official. My ancestors struggled through the Great Depression, toiled across the plains, and poured their blood, sweat, and tears into farms and businesses in Virginia, Ohio, Iowa, Utah, and Illinois. This is MY country. My forefathers earned the right and have given me the privilege to say those four words. I am hurt when people try to tell me otherwise. Also, what does this say about more recent immigrants? Are they not a true part of this country? Of course they are. We thank everyone for their contributions to our country.

If you've studied history, you understand that it tells a story of a constant exchange of land and power among rulers, peoples, and empires. Egypt has never been purely "Egyptian." The land has belonged to countless empires and peoples. What even is "pure Egyptian?" Shouldn't it just be someone who lives, works, loves, and dies there?

I belong to this land. I am grateful everyday for that fact. I rejoice in its triumphs and mourn its sorrows. May we all remember our own heritage today in a way that would make our ancestors proud that we carry their name.

I am proud to be an American. I am proud to be a true American, not a German-American, or Anglo-American, or Euro-American or whatever name society might choose to give me.

God bless America, and everyone in her.