In January I was with my brother David at Starbucks, rather aimlessly looking for jobs in theaters near me. The offerings were either nonexistent or not for me until I stumbled across a position called Music Apprentice at the 5th Avenue Theatre in Seattle. I looked at the job description—playing piano for rehearsals and events, reading new works, transposing, researching, musical directing—and thought, This is my dream job.
Then I looked at the pay. Well, dream internship.
I read the position’s description to David and he said, “Isn’t that exactly what you’d want to do? That’s music and theatre.” I said yes, it was, and I knew immediately I would try to get this position.
I didn’t fit all the qualifications of a music apprentice. They wanted a freshly graduated music major with professional references, and I had a religion major with collegiate references and a year of traveling buffering me from all relevant experience. The music apprentice was expected to know how to notate music using software that was unfamiliar to me. I could play piano, sure, but could I play well enough? The position was in Seattle: how would I get there? The 5th Avenue is a big deal; surely there would be loads of more qualified people lined up for the position…
But when I’d tell people about the job, they would get excited for me, not nervous. I texted Tony about it, saying that it would be good “if I can maybe swing it,” and he responded with, “It’s not a maybe, it’s a definitely you can swing it.” He launched into a relentless six month string of unsolicited pep talking and much-needed nagging to send in the application without which I would not be telling this story now.
When people would ask what I would do after my English and drama teaching stint at Mount Rainier Lutheran High, I would tell them about the apprenticeship and they all told me to go for it too, even when I protested that I didn’t have the perfect background.
I found a free trial version of Finale and tried to teach myself so I could submit a file to the theatre. I had to send in videos of me playing the piano, and I frantically practiced the pieces in between the final rehearsals of the high school play. I didn’t think I knew them well enough, but my family told me again to just go for it.
Tony drove me to Mount Rainier one Sunday so I could play the selections on the high school’s beautiful grand piano (the same one I played as the choir accompanist all through high school), but when we were almost to the school, I realized I’d forgotten his nice camera at my house. I wanted to just keep going: “Film it with an iPhone,” I told him. “It’ll be fine.” But he was driving and he insisted the video needed to look its best, and so he turned the car around and we got the camera. He recorded me over and over on my old stage, made sure the shots were framed well, and paid attention to all sorts of details that hadn’t occurred to me in my efforts to hit the right notes.
A week after it was all sent in, I received an email saying they wanted to interview me for the position in Seattle! Surprised and delighted, I went into the city on June 18 for a talk that couldn’t have lasted more than 20 minutes. They told me they were interviewing other people for the position too, so they had me say goodbye and said they’d be in touch. I told them I would be in Albania for three weeks and any contact would be difficult, and they told me they would be in touch soon in that case.
But time went by. I flew to Georgia for the Ambassador trip’s leader training, and no word from the 5th. I flew to Albania, and no word.
It was a bit of a relief, actually. I mean, yes, I love theatre, and music, and Seattle, but the commute would have been terrible. It was a full time position with a tiny stipend. It probably would have been stressful. I told everyone I didn’t think I’d get it and I was at peace.
Then, things got confusing because I received an email from the head of the theatre’s music department requesting a phone interview. Thus began a week of the most epic game of phone tag you’ve ever heard of. An interview time would be suggested, and I’d have to decline due to the time change and then would suggest other times, usually late at night. I’d sit on the third story rooftop of Lightforce Camp in Lezhe swatting mosquitos and staring at the ragged outlines of mountains and towns and not talking to the theatre.
Finally, one night, the call came and I was offered the position. I said thank you, and I would get back to them, and went to sleep.
The next day, I told my team about my fears: I have a chance to do theatre full time, but I won’t make a lot of money. It is far away from me. I’m afraid it’ll be stressful. I’m afraid everyone there is out of my league. I’m afraid I can’t sightread well enough. I’m afraid I don’t know enough. I’m afraid something else will come up.
One by one, my team members told me, each in their own words, something to the effect of, “What are you talking about? This sounds amazing and you should go for it.”
I emailed my family asking their advice and received a flood of similar reality checks and encouragements.
God and I had a short talk about it. It was short because there wasn’t much to say. In it, he pointed out that all my reasons for not taking the position were based on fear, and that’s a bad way to make courageous decisions. I thought of how God got us all out of Mozambique even when it should have been impossible and remembered that God can put us exactly where he wants us… and he was doing that again here. What’s more, it was where I wanted to be too.
So I said “okay” to the open door, and that is why I am sitting in downtown Seattle right now drinking a giant mug of coffee and writing this final blog post before I walk to the theatre to sign some hiring papers.
It’s hard to remember when my life now looks so different than it did a year ago, but the World Race is not an isolated experience. It changes the way you live no matter where or what that is. The deep sense of “I am not cut out for this” we all felt—it struck when we were asked to move a boulder with machetes or kill 50 chickens or preach for an hour off the cuff or visit homes or comfort Iranian refugees or “clean trees” (which I still don’t understand) or heal the sick or befriend prostitutes or befriend johns or teach English or travel for days or eat bugs or live out of backpacks or live with strange strangers or advance the Kingdom of God when you yourself don’t understand it—that sense is present everywhere, and the solution is the same: God puts you where God wants you. Of course you’re not always cut out for it. Of course you’re not qualified. That’s why you’re there: because God shines really bright in weaknesses. So go anyway.
Now, the very special thing about this new apprenticeship is that while it’s not necessarily going to be easy and I doubt I’m prepared as I could be, it is where my heart is. I have known for years that I’m called to be in theatre, not as a hobby, but as a career. So it is a sweet thing to be able to say that’s the next challenge I get to face.
Furthermore, in our weaknesses, God can use others to build us up. I would argue that it is living in community, not the countries or the work, that transforms Racers. And I hope you can see even in this story here that I would not be sitting in this coffee shop if it hadn’t been for the many people who kept me going along the way.
Maybe starting this new adventure isn’t as thrilling-sounding as the World Race, but it is to me. I can’t believe that I finally get to invest my time in theatre—not as an extracurricular activity or summer project, but as my focus. That’s something I’ve wanted to do for about 15 years.
And so I think now is a good time to end this blog, in this transition to a new adventure. I’ve been writing it for a long time- over two years! I didn’t realize that until yesterday.
I like to be creative. I like painting and playing music and dancing so badly my dog attacks me… but writing is different. I have loved writing this blog. I often tell people that blogging was my favorite work I did on the World Race. The experiences of and surrounding the Race deepened for me when I could write about them, and it has been an honor to share that with all you family and friends and strangers and supporters. I’m sad to end this chapter, but it’s been a really long chapter.
So, I think I’ll start a new one. Stay tuned, everyone. And for now, thank you so very much for everything.
