A Little More Complicated...

My life has become just a bit more complicated this weekend. Our Brynley, shown here, auditioned for a part in Ballet West's production of "The Nutcracker." She was excited to participate in this process with two of her good friends here in Salt Lake, and I felt it would be a good experience for her to see what it was like to perform in front of judges. I seriously reconsidered the attempt this week when Brynley called me from school in tears begging to come home and be "just with me, like when she was a little girl." We've been so fragmented as a family over the last couple of months, and we are still feeling our way through a new school year's routine and life with a new baby to boot. Would it be good for her to be rejected when her feelings were so tender and exposed? Would being turned away at such a young age prevent Bryn from seeing her absolutely true talent for ballet (this little girl was born pointing her toes. We know she is not happy when she stops dancing...). Perhaps not this year, but she wanted so much to try out-and I've never wanted to discourage my children from placing themselves in a position to become stronger. "What could it really hurt?" I thought, try out she would.

Well, she made it. Now, many many moms would have put an "!" after that last statement, and I am completely happy that Brynley's experience was so desperately positive. But, you see, Bryn is one of 6 small children, and all of them seem to have places to go and things to do. This new experience, along with all it's requirements (the parent's handbook for this production is long and intimidating; clearly if Brynley is late for any rehearsal or performance, according to this manuscript, I am an unsuccessful and unsupportive parent not to mention a sabature of a 50year old tradition of world class ballet). Brynley's rehearsals will be about 25 miles away from our house, and will begin in the middle of rush hour (and in the middle of soccer practice for two of my three soccer players...). They will last one hour-not long enough to come home and put dinner on and then return to her, and there is no gaurantee she will be cast with her friend who also was selected, so I may or may not have a carpool to help me. It is a bit daunting to think of right now, and ever so much more complicated. Add to this the performances which consume the entire month of December and last about 2 hours at a very late time of night (I think she reports to her dressing room at like 8:30 p.m., and won't be ready to come home until after 9:30...so much for bedtime).

I could call the ballet company and decline, I could tell them thanks but no thanks. I could go to Bryn and just lay it all out; this year is just not the year for us to have such time constraints and requirements put upon our family with a new baby and so much going on in our family. And I could just as easily devour one of the live snakes or monkeys I saw in bamboo cages in the open market of Hanoi. I committed myself when I let her sign up for the audition, and now I live with the consequences.

I heard a religious leader this weekend talk about the load that is placed upon us which helps us, through its weight and difficulty, to move forward toward eternal destinations with our families at our side. This load is so often something we want dismissed, taken off our backs, made light or removed entirely. But it is in carrying the load that we grow strong, that we become humble, that we reach up for help and in the reaching become more able to follow a loving Savior as he helps to bare us up as we go along our way. The nutcracker, the soccer, the preschool, it is all a little part of this load. It isn't perhaps a necessary part-maybe I loaded that one on myself unnecessarily when I agreed to let Brynley try out-but now it is a part of Bryn, so it is a part of the load that yields the power to move me closer to the eternal soul I so desire to become. A soul that lives close to a loving Saviour, who has learned to give herself in the service of others; even if that service is to a little nutcracker dancer as she hurries off to perform.

So, life is a bit more complicated, my load a bit more percarious. But, hopefully, it will be something that when it is done will prove a complication not too difficult to manage, and an experience that will bring my little ballerina to know that her family adores and supports her, and a tired mom the chance to rely on heavenly powers in small things like making rehearsals on time, adding to "the magic of the ballet west production" (that is straight out of the parent handbook) and moving forward to heavenly places with my family by my side.