My wife has been asked by the stake presidency to lead up this year's stake cultural event. Last year, she had suggested to the presidency that the stake produce a play for everybody's enjoyment. It had been decades since one had been done (we've had road shows, art shows, and the like, but not a play), and she suspected that the suggestion might boomerang back to her. She is the stake music chairwoman, and things like this tend to fall on her lap.
Anyway, when she told me that she had been asked to produce it, as we both expected, I knew it would take her away from home a lot until it was all over. Tonight the auditions start, so she'll be mentally absorbed in this until it's all over in May. She's been planning and scheming and visiting with others who are going to do the directing, the dancing, and the music; and seems excited about the whole process.
I know for a fact that the whole thing is going to go very well. It seems anything my wife puts her heart into works out beautifully, and I am delighted that she can work on this. Even so, I was surprised the other day when she came home and told me that she's a little sad about the whole thing. Why is she sad? Because she can't be in it. This floored me. It never occurred to me that she might want to actually be in the play itself, though in hindsight it makes perfect sense -- she loves to sing, enjoys dancing, and is not afraid of being on stage. I don't know that she's ever done any dramatic acting, but I have no doubt she'd be great.
I feel bad that she can't participate in that way, and have no good words of comfort for her. I know it will be great largely because she isn't in it, and is rather behind the scenes making everything and everybody work together. It's a pity she can't be on stage to take the bow amid all the clapping, but even if she's not, I hope she will never forget that in my mind there is no applause loud enough to express my appreciation of her.
Fine: be that way, Mr. Raccoon.
16 hours ago