The Soccer Ball is a Metaphor for Her Heart

Sports Camp is over.

I love this event. So much hard work is involved, and I love to see my church community come together to play sports, hang out with children, sing songs, dance crazy, and make fools of themselves all so that children can know God.

This year, my job for Sports Camp is a creative one. I am thankful for every opportunity Kristin gives me to write a skit, but the Sports Camp skits hold a special place in my heart.

Especially this one.

My life tends to fall apart when I write a skit. The writing process for this year's skit is no exception. In my last post, I shared that I identified with plot of the skit and pondered the ending. Because I am Abby, I wanted to re-write everything. It was coming down to the wire and all I wanted to do is change the final skit.

Something was missing, and I couldn't figure it out.

It didn't occur to me the missing part until Tuesday morning, two days before the final skit performance. I re-wrote the last page and snuck it into rehearsal.

I was worried on the day of the final skit. Was it going to work? Would people respond? What if I still don't like it? Did the drama team know that they were speaking for me, that they were my voice?

I couldn't be more proud of the drama team. All week they had impressed me with their comedic timing; their commitment to the characters that I had created. Most of the skit was a comedy--not my forte. Typically, my writing is serious by nature and I knew that the only reason why the jokes worked was because of the actors. But the last page was different and I worried if anyone would go along with it.

Surprisingly enough, they did. The Sports Camp kids cheered on their hero as he reclaimed the soccer ball from his nemesis, and celebrated when the main character made the pivotal decision to ask for help and join her team. And as the kids erupted with support for her final line, I knew they were on her side; they truly wanted her to win.

As I mentioned in my last post, it is strange to see your life story unfold on stage. Sure, I may have over-identified with this year's skit. Sure, the writing process may always involve a little breaking of my heart. Sure, I may never be a comedic writer. I don't know if and/or when I will be asked to write again, but if asked, I am sure that I would do it again.

Of all the things I could be sure of, I know this to be true: there are some things I couldn't create or write for myself. After months of isolating discouragement and shattering silence, at this year's Sports Camp, God gave my voice back to me.

And my heart was healed.

Identification

Every once in awhile, I write skits for my church.

I don't think I'm very good at it, but I will take any opportunity to write something. At least I'll be writing, right?

The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.

--Luke 6:45 (ESV)

The latest offering is for my church's version of Vacation Bible School: Sports Camp. I know nothing about sports, I don't know anything about camp, but I am thankful that my friend Kristin still trusts me to write the skits.

Perhaps I was a little out of practice, but the writing process for this skit took a little longer than I was used to. I was way past deadline and I couldn't write past the second act. Finally, two weeks past deadline, I rushed through scenes three and four. Frustrated and dissatisfied, I ripped up the last two scenes and started over. I didn't make a good read through until I had to turn in the skit at the Sports Camp meeting.

I hadn't realized the storyline I had created until I was talking through the entire play. It isn't unusual for me to identify with one of my character's inner struggle. What was unusual was how blatantly the plot was my story.

Identify, much?

It is a surreal experience to see your story play out on stage. I'd like to think I was not so overly self-indulgent in my writing--especially when I write for church--but apparently, this story that I have ignored in my own life needed to get out on paper just to get my attention.

The skit has a little neat ending. I'm not sure if my reality will play out in the same way.

A Moment to Breathe

This 4th of July, I did my usual fare: I read the Declaration of Independence and pondered what it meant to be a citizen.

And then, the whirlwind that is the Independence Day Celebration commenced. Church, BBQ, hanging out with friends. This year, I opted to go to my friend Erin's parent's house on Fox Island and spend the 4th of July on the beach.

It was windy, cold, dreary and fantastic. I don't think I'll ever get the campfire smell out of my hair.

But my favorite moment of the entire weekend came the day after. I returned to Fox Island to have breakfast at the same beach.

It was near perfection. A sunny morning. The sound of the water upon the shore. Breakfast near the fire pit. Friends sitting around talking and enjoying each other's presence. A fantastic cup of coffee.

I think there was even a seal named Barney and his mother, Cecilia.

At one point, with a warm cup of coffee in my hands, I felt peace amid the comfortable silence in the presence of my friends.

I took a deep breath and it was beautiful.