: About Me

Michele Clayton
08.28.08

The Stage

Stage left stands a little 10 year girl with blonde hair, blue eyes and innocent smile waiting on queue to move forward with her part in the play. Her feet are turned inward, knees touching each other scared to death of the audience that sits and waits for her to walk across the platform and say her lines. Her mind races, her stomach churns and the electricity in her body is shaking unequivocally. Her mind races to what her parents have always told her"always believe in yourself and always approve of your actions and you will go far."

"Believe in myself and approve of my actions" she repeated silently with the stage manager looking on thinking she is rehearsing her lines, smiling and tapping her on the shoulder indicating "it's time." The small slight child takes a deep breath, looks up to her Father above and prays a small prayer of thanking him for this opportunity. She then steps out on the stage confident that no matter what the audience of life throws at her, she will be ok and in a few years, the audience will change. She races forward to play her part.

Just to the left of the center of the old wooden floor that has supported many players, actors, prompts, amps, mics and hundreds of feet, stands a 40 year old woman with short cropped Meg Ryan hair, a tired disposition that speaks of soccer practices, band rehearsals, making lunches, designing dinners, walking dogs, feeding cats, sweeping floors, ironing shirts, making beds, washing clothes and a struggling marriage she is desperately trying to keep together. Her voice is faint and strives to project but the weight of her failing marriage keeps her tone in a low vibrato. She forces a smile and fakes a laugh and is happiest when she is with her children. Her posture is forced but she is doing the best she can with what she has at her disposal. And the lights fade. Life is hard and she has resolved to her position on the raised stained floor as the dark red burgundy heavy velvet curtains are pulled slowly together for intermission.

When the lights come up and the curtains fly open, a 45 year old long blonde hair with flowers all around her feet, braided in her hair, flowing down her shoulders and drifting slowly to the hem of her long floating white garment stands as though she is a strong Magnolia tree with blooming flowers on every branch. Her strength shows through her smile, her smile is soft and sweet with the Love of her God and her God's gift given to her to keep her strong for the next stage in her life.

Her God's gift is standing behind her. An oak tree. An oak tree with considerable strong branches spreads wide and stretches tall protecting her from falling back to the left side of the stage giving her the strength to stand all alone. Just knowing that her God's gift is there keeps her focused on what is in front of her. Just knowing that her God's gift is unmovable steadies her mind. Just knowing that her God's gift will always be on the same stage with her stabilizes her very core and frees her to be who she is. At times her God's gift takes the liberty to touch her gingerly and care for her when she most needs it to get her through and keep her going. And her smile and the way she portrays her essence to the audience shows her thankfulness and her appreciation of her God's gift.

She takes in the audience and what is before her and begins her to speak her lines. She moves fluidly and dances as if she is the only one there. She speaks her truths and stands strong with her beliefs and only looks forward to the day in front her. Her future she cannot see, her dreams are still in a fog, but knowing that her God's gift is there, she knows she will dream again and have the ability to move forward to where God would have her go.

And while she is dancing and singing and waiting God is working for her heart's best interest.

Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: What we've learned (and not learned) from Hurricane Katrina

9 of 15

Grief was squeezing the life from my lungs. I was unable to even gasp. Willing to face what was before me was no easy task. I managed to force muffled verbiage from my voice that my sister seemed to understand. She stopped the car on Pascagoula Street in Pascagoula, Ms and I got out and ran to the rumble of destruction that lay at my feet, my heart and my soul. I couldn't get there fast enough. I wanted to find the greatest heap and climb underneath the brick, the mortar, the steel, the wood, the work of the powerful force of Nature. What lessons could I or anyone else for that matter lear...

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