Heartbreak and a Little Grace

I saw a post on Facebook about "God's perfect timing." I admit I scoffed a little. I was recently a victim of very bad timing, timing that probably didn't have much to do with God since we tend to attribute things to God that we probably shouldn't.

I was supposed to sing the lead in an operetta at the end of October. I had been preparing the role since last year, and I was so excited to sing the part. My voice was in terrific shape, and I felt so healthy.

Around the first part of production week though, I felt a dreaded drip down the back of my throat. But I wasn't worried. I had sung through colds and allergies tons of times.

Then about three days into my head cold, I woke up and knew it had settled . . . in my throat. I was swollen. Any singer who has ever had laryngitis will know what I am talking about.

I still wasn't that worried. It was a head cold, which meant it would move to a new part of my body the next day.

It didn't.

So I went to the ENT. I would have to go on steroids, but it was the price I was willing to pay for opening night (which was the next day). The inflammation in my vocal cords was due to a virus and lots of mucus. I had nothing permanently wrong with me, no vocal abuse, strain, bruising, or nodes.

But the steroids didn't work. (I am probably the only person in the history of the world who is completely unaffected by 200 mg of Prednisone.) Neither did the 1600 mg of Advil or Mucinex that was later added to my cocktail. Neither did the steam treatments or iced lemon water or Throat Coat Tea.

My voice never recovered enough to sing during the run of the production. My heart was broken.

Eventually, I had to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to get to sing this part, this role that had become one my favorites over the past few months.

What does it mean when something that had seemed so serendipitous doesn't work out?

I say it means nothing.

"What is the reason for this? Doesn't everything happen for a reason?" I asked Dan (in a barely audible, very croaky voice) as he was driving me back from the theater.

"That's silly. There are lots of senseless things that happen in this world," he said.

Nature was taking its course. There was no miraculous intervention by a higher power or by the universe—just a virus that had to make its way out of my system on its own terms.

But here is what I discovered during this ordeal. People were there at the right time and in the right place. Maybe that is how God operates, through the people around us. Let me just throw out my entire Baptist upbringing about "sin nature" and postulate a more humanist approach. Rather than being a victim of a deaf God, I was a beneficiary of the inherent goodness of humankind.

• My friend and fellow cast member gracefully rose to the occasion and learned the role within a couple of hours.
• My husband, Dan, stepped in to cover one of the backstage jobs that opened up because of the giant snowball effect my absence was creating.
• Another friend followed up on my condition with the ENTs in her office throughout the week to see if there was anything else I could possibly do to bring down the inflammation.
• One of the cast members gave me a "get better" care package just because he is my friend.
• I received priesthood blessings from some of the LDS cast members that instilled in me a sense of peace and resolve.
• People from all belief systems and walks of life sent me countless prayers and positive thoughts.
• I was given a treasure chest and a scarf and sea shells and chocolate and a note that provided me with the confidence to try this performing thing again sometime. (I was ready to throw in the towel and never audition for another show ever.)
• The director handled the whole situation in an amazingly calm, gracious, and professional way, some of the best crisis management I have ever seen.
• The cast gave me beautiful flowers and a get well card at strike.
• And the male lead brought me out for the final bow on closing night even though I couldn't even muster a squeak by that time.

I made some of the best friends of my life. Nobody judged me or blamed me for causing such a dramatic ending to our production. Everyone was genuinely concerned for my well-being. And I got the impression that it went beyond simple sympathy, that my fellow cast and crew members were so empathetic, their hearts broke right along with mine.

The director put it best: "This is what a theater family does for each other." And she was right.

Everything may not have meaning, but I can learn from anything even if it doesn't make sense.

I heard Anne Lamott say once, "I asked a priest after Newtown, 'Is there meaning after Newtown?' And he said, 'Not yet.' Meaning will come."

Even so, I just wanted to experience and impart the art and beauty of that music. But maybe meaning will come . . . later. And even if it doesn't, at least I experienced a little grace.

Get Well Gifts

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