I don’t mind the wintry morning temperatures and am even willing to brave them, in fact, I may be eager to brave them. I do love to go and do and the chill does not discourage my drive. The Salesman jokes me about having a butterfly tattoo – which I don’t – just for the record. For as much as he is content with being at home, I love to go. I’ve had an event on my calendar for today that has been written in pen, not just penciled in, for weeks. I was so certain about this event.
It was tryouts for the next production at Legacy Theatre. Can I just say, Legacy Theatre is one of my favorites? I love the people there – they are my people. They are artistic, creative, a barrel of fun, and I’ve received some of my dearest encouragement from them.
I was so certain I was going to tryouts and I was going to be in another play.
Then yesterday I had a thought float by about not going to tryouts. And then there was my follow up thought of, “Where did that thought come from?” So ensues the conversation in my head:
I mean seriously, you know, I have had this on my calendar for weeks. I love the people and this community of creatives. I’ve been in three productions and had some of the best times of my life there. I am not even kidding. But the weight of the thought continued to press on my mind yesterday. I questioned why I’d even entertain the thought of not going when all that was within me had planned to go. I went about my day and plans and activities and even spoke out my intention of going to a group of friends here last night. One friend turned to me, and now that I recount it, it was almost as if she was in slow motion when she turned her face to me, and said something along the lines of not having time for that with what she was called to do. And I thought well, I love Legacy, along with some of the above mentioned thoughts. It was late last night when the last friend left, in fact, I had to tell her I needed to go on to bed because it was late and I had this *thing* to go to today. I had to be rested for my cold script reading at tryouts this morning.
Then I awoke over an hour before my alarm with the thought that:
My *No* to the play, may be my *Yes* to my calling.
It was confirmation of what I’d thought the day before, and then confirmed with my dear young friends slow motion head turn and words that pierced to the dividing asunder last night. After tears – because I wanted to go to tryouts, and was seriously not wimping out on an audition, I communicated my *Yes of No* with The Salesman and my mentor and friend. Then there were a few more tears.
Then there was the getting ready like I was going to the tryouts; but the getting ready to stay home and do what I know that I am called to do:
Write.
A writer (ME) can find more distractions that you can ever imagine. I am fighting the urge right now to not go outside and grab a blue Food City bag that has been blown into the yard and is caught on a limb in the hedge outside my Jesus Room window staring me in the face like it knows I am called to do something.
Distractions. They are everywhere. I’ve got a list started of *things* I think I must do today that already has twelve items to be completed. Distractions can be loud and can sidetrack me from what I am called to do. Distractions come in many shapes and forms. Distractions can be a barrel of fun. I think back to a quote from Bob Jones, Sr.:
Don’t sacrifice the permanent on the altar of the immediate.
It is so easy to do though – at least it is for me. The urgent calls for my time and attention in the form of a play that I want to participate in and would have a good time doing it, while the eternal was a gentle thought, a head turning, soul penetrating, direction changing call.
The YES of my No was a gentle thought, a head turning, soul penetrating, direction changing call.
I answered today for the sake of eternity.
This is my yes. The Yes of No.
