The show must go on...
This past Friday and Saturday here at the school were performances of this semester's high school play, Barbecuing Hamlet. Lots of fun. Luke had a cameo late in the production; big monologue, very humorous, a good first forway for him into the world of drama. And then there’s the rest of the story:
On opening night (Friday) there was a massive rain/thunderstorm such that the audience could hear essentially nothing of the dialogue for the first 20 minutes of the show. The auditorium is lined with screened windows along the side walls, no way to block out the sound (at least not without suffocating inside.) Aluminum roof (wonderfully noisy pitter-patter) with an endearing little leak in front of the stage. The rain eventually abated and we could all hear again.
On Saturday a tree fell down on the main power line to the RFIS campus and neighboring houses. The large back-up generator was damaged in the accident too. So at showtime there was a little lawn-mower-engine-type generator hauled in to power the stage lights in order for the show could go on. Alas, somewhere into the first act that generator died. Flashlights from parents all came out to light up the stage. The saintly guy in charge of maintenance/physical plant at RFIS got the generator working again…for about 20 minutes. Then on again for a while, off again, on, off throughout the whole rest of the show. Probably 8 times back and forth, each time soliciting a raft of flashlights coming to the rescue.
Throughout all this, the kids just plowed straight ahead. In part it may just be decent training from the instructors that “the show must go on.” But observing it up close, I think there is something else afoot: these kids are so used to the un-necessities of life being on or off or whatever. They flow with it, grateful for blessings as they come but mostly unperturbed when they’re absent. It was delightful to see a buch of kids exuberant about the show, laughing and making us laugh, viewing thunderstorms and power outages as an adventure, excited to be “in it together” with friends and teachers and adoring parents.
MK’s will admit they have many “issues” and foibles; they’re not saints any more than the rest of us who haven’t grown up in a global context. But sometimes I just sit back and observe in awe how unusually mature and joyful these kids are. I’m an adult, a teacher, a father—but I’m often challenged by how much better an attitude and greater patience and godlier a perspective some of my kids/students/neighbors have than I do. I know I’m here to serve and to teach, but there are many times when I am the one being served and taught.
