Duty

Last night we had the opportunity to attend the play Duty by Tim Stevens at the Garner Performing Arts Center. Mr. Stevens has previously written a few historical plays that has been performed in both churches and at the GPAC. This one dealt with the 7 men from Garner who died in Vietnam and told a little about their stories, as well as some of the other Garner natives who fought there and survived. It was heart wrenching, but very good. My heart still hurts as I hear of the treatment our veterans received when they returned home. When our Quilts of Valor group presents a quilt to a Vietnam Vet, it's not uncommon for some of them to say it's the first time a non-family member has ever thanked them for their service. At one of our recent presentations, a vet told me he joined a group that served family members of fallen comrades when he returned home. He said one of them still haunts him to this day. The only people at the funeral and the grave-side service was the immediate family, the preacher, and the group of veterans. No one from the community or the church or the boy's school came out to pay their respects. He said there was not a dry eye on his bus on the way back to base.

One of my neighbors shared after the play that her brother also served in Vietnam. She said her mother went to mass every day, even if meant walking, to pray for his safety. She also baked snickerdoodles once a week to mail to him, as it was his favorite food. I think the family got a little tired of the snickerdoodles. She said they quit being her favorite, and even now she seldom eats them.

I'm thankful for the town of Garner and the commitment of its townspeople to honor its veterans, whether it be through a play at the local theater or through the hard work that went into the Garner Veterans Memorial at our local park. I wish there wasn't a need to recognize those who struggled so much and sacrificed so much, some of them even with their lives, but I'm thankful to live in/near a town that understands the importance of people over policy. It really does matter.

non-Mom status

The first time I worked with small kids, ever, was the summer after I turned 18. I volunteered to be an assistant to an older woman as she taught the 3&4 year olds for Vacation Bible School. I was excited. Monday rolled around, and about 2pm (VBS started at 6pm), Mom got a phone call that Mrs. Evie was sick, and I'd need to take the class. Her daughter was dropping all the supplies, ready to go, at the church and would have everything ready for me. Did I mention I had never really worked with small children before?

I had three 3year old boys, all by myself. After the night was over, I told my Mom how impossible it was to teach the lesson. They were ON the table, UNDER the table, sitting BACKWARDS in their chairs, EATING their crayons, coloring the TABLE, the CHAIR, and asking me five questions (and almost none of them related to the lesson) for every one sentence. In short, it was chaos. My Mom looked at me like I was crazy, and laughed. "Well, that's three year olds," she said. "You have to keep things short, active, and teach them what to do. They're learning." And the rest of the week, I watched Mrs. Evie in action, made mental notes, learned a LOT, and secretly wondered if those kids didn't have springs hidden in their shoes and bottoms.

Fast forward ten years, and I'm working with other women my age, all Moms, on a church Christmas play. We walk into the classroom (where shepherds are whacking each other upside the head with their crooks, slamming stuffed sheep at each other, as well as using them as projectiles) and a mother catches a flying stuffed sheep with one hand, grabs a crook with another, shakes her head and asks, "Whose dumb idea was this?"  All the Moms rolled their eyes, shook their heads, while I gingerly raised my hand. They all laughed, but I got the message, innocent though it might have been. A mother would have known better.

Fast forward another 10+ years to this past Sunday. The kids' Christmas program talked about cookies and hot chocolate, and at every practice my cast talked about how awesome it would be if they could have REAL cookies and hot chocolate to eat during the play OR to have a cast party after the play. Since our church has the play on Sunday morning, there was no way I was suggesting we have a junk food party AFTER church when they're supposed to be eating lunch, and there was no way I was going to organize lunch for 35 kids, plus parents and visiting grandparents, etc. After some discussion with Bobby, we (with some parents' help) threw a breakfast cast party BEFORE church. No cookies, but we did have hot chocolate (or hot cocoa, depending on what your family calls it), sausage balls, mini muffins, and mini chocolate and powdered donuts. (I learned my lesson about serving Krispy Kreme donuts to kids right before a play around the same time as paragraph number two...NOT a good idea.) By the time I got to church (late for adult choir practice, but still 20 minutes before the  kids were supposed to be there), I had a small bevy outside the classroom door ecstatic. I had left the unopened packages at the church the night before, and they had already seen some of what was in store and were STOKED. And of course the boys were delighted because a mother had already informed her daughter she was NOT to eat a powdered donut, and the little girl was confiding they were her favorite. I watched as Mom after Mom walked in with little girls decked out in super fancy dresses and saw the Mom's faces contort in horror that we were having powdered donuts and hot chocolate. Not one parent said a rude or derisive word, but deep down, I knew: A mom would have known better.

The good thing? After 20+ years, I could actually laugh a little about it Sunday morning, and make a mental note (powdered donuts for active events, not dress-up events). The four summers we served as host parents to three foster children from Belarus were eye-opening, life changers for me. I grew to understand and appreciate a small bit of what my Mom friends face on a daily basis. I gained a small sliver of knowledge in how to better pray for my friends, of the emotional and mental toil that being a Mom takes. And yet, there are things that I will never grasp, will never fully understand, and I'm slowly coming to grips with that, and that it's okay. Those four summers made a small bridge between the uphill pastures we females all walk. I can never enter into their pastures, nor they into mine, but we can now meet on the bridge that spans the stream separating our lives. I can hear their burdens and understand a little bit, not just observe them from a distance with a slanted perspective.

That was one of the mental images I had in mind when I started this blog several years ago. That's why my blog site address is burdenbearer: I listen to the burdens my friends carry and try to help, though never fully understanding because my burdens are so very different. And I don't mean burden in a negative way; it's more the literature connotation of one's lot in life. I always thought I would explain the title, but it never seemed appropriate, until now.

So the next time a friend needs me to help carry a load, I'll gladly come and enjoy a chance to be with a little one. And now I'll know to bring powdered donuts. :)

The Lost Colony

One of the many things we've talked about doing the last 14 years has been going to Manteo, NC to see the Lost Colony. I've heard Bobby talk about it, I've read reviews, I've seen magazine articles about how amazingly awesome this outdoor drama is. We actually had a free weekend the end of May, so we went.

I was more than a tad disgusted/disappointed when I called to get tickets. According to the receptionist, they do offer wheelchair seating but not companion seats (a folding chair that can be placed next to the wheelchair). I would only be allowed to sit behind him. And that irked me more than just a little bit. Yes, I understand handicap seating is limited and there needs to be ample space available for wheelchairs and scooters. I so totally get that. But can you imagine anyone else calling and being told "I'm sorry. Even though it's only two tickets, we are not allowed to place groups together. You'll both have to sit in different rows. But don't worry. You'll be able to see each other and will be within hearing distance during intermission." No one would happily accept that. I let her know I wasn't thrilled with the thought of buying two tickets and yet not being able to sit with my husband. She basically said, "Well, do you want the tickets or not?" although in a nice way. And because we've talked about this so long, I bought them.

When we arrived that night, the seating attendant had no clue where the ADA seating was. I finally intercepted her from checking rows to tell her that ADA was wheelchair seating, and mentioned that my ticket wasn't with his. She just shrugged, and said "Grab a chair. There's plenty." We looked, and sure enough, of the long row of wheelchair seats and folding chair, only two were taken. TWO, out of twenty. So I did.

The acting and sets of the play are truly outstanding. The play itself, not so much. They took a LOT of historical liberties with the script (think the history of the Titanic and the latest movie of the Titanic). The war scenes between the Indians and colonists were done about as tastefully as could be, and yet when they were over, the audience cheered and clapped. And that left us both dumbfounded. Why? Why would you cheer for the death of a person, for the death of a friendship, for the stealing of land and usurption of power, for revenge? What does that say about us as a society that we would find a war scene funny? Yes, there were a few comical moments in one of the scenes, but there was NOTHING content wise that should have prompted the cheers, whooops, and laughter when the scenes ended. It left me very uneasy.

So if I had to grade this particular play, here's how I would grade them:

ADA (American Disabilities Act) Compliance: C-
Ticketing: D
Parking: C-
Employees: B-
Historical Accuracy: D
Acting: A
Staging: A+
Costuming: B
Choreography: B-
Music: A

How's that for an all over the board experience?  Photography wasn't allowed, or I would have gladly posted photos of some of the staging, which was totally incredible.

small towns

Yesterday as we were attempting to create 2 sets on stage, our pastor walked in and said "You've got a lot done." I don't remember what my comment was, but I was feeling like the set was thrown together and a bit on the tacky side. He laughed a little and said, "Well, you know, it's Bethlehem. It's just a dirty little town."

I was shocked speechless. When I think of Bethlehem I think of white buildings stacked on a hillside. Maybe it's from seeing too many sanitized Christmas cards. Yet if you look online, the images aren't too far from what we see there. I'm sure back in the day there were very few pristine cities.

But then it got me to thinking about home and how people viewed the county where I grew up. There are some very nice homes, but often you can't see them for all the trees (though the tornadoes 2 years ago took care of a large chunk of that problem). But for the most part, the town is made up of very small and simple mill houses. Some have additions, whether nicely or crudely done. But still, it's my town. And yet, if someone from around here were to visit there, I don't think they'd be impressed.

I can't help but wonder how Jospeh felt about having to head back to Bethlehem. I'm sure it's not the homecoming he'd envisioned. Did he have any family left living there? Was he close to them? Or was it like the Chinese, who even though 3 generations may have lived elsewhere, that was still their "hometown" because that was where the family origins were? Had he ever been there? Did he spend holidays there as a child?

So while we're going to make a few adjustments and completions to the set today, Bethlehem on stage is going to be a simple, small town. And yes, I think a few adjustments are in order. The 2 yr old waiting on her Mom quickly picked up on my question "Does the inn look like a building or a tomb?" and repetitively replied "I like the tomb!" I told Bobby I'm sure she simply liked the sound of the word, but it didn't reassure me very much. So we'll probably modify that some this afternoon.

Onward, ho!