Well, it’s official. We’re a theater family. Our weekends are spent shuttling from rehearsal to rehearsal. My money is spent on character shoes, opaque tights, and stage makeup. I’ve learned how to make a fishtail braid, which was what a character called for. And I’ve spent more time than I care to share figuring out what hairspray holds the best curl.
And, of course, the show is the big payoff.
Tonight, my daughter will hit the stage for her fifth production, between her school musical and her theater group. I still cry every time I see her smile, get excited when the lights go down, and continue to be thankful that she found this little space for herself. But of all I love about her involvement in theater, my favorite is the gratitude jar.
It’s a tradition with her theater group. For each production, every cast and crew member receives a jar filled with little multi-colored notes from the other members. Some are short and to the point. It’s how I’ve learned we’re at the age where the kids say “Slay!” and “Queen!” Some are longer and heartfelt. I wouldn’t share the specific messages here. Still, I think it perhaps teaches my daughter one of my favorite lessons in her theater adventures: to be supportive, to cheer on your friends, to appreciate every role from tech to cast, from big lead parts to ensemble.
And I’ll let you in on a little secret. When I’m having a rough day, when I wonder if I’m parenting my daughters well enough, when I’m hoping I’ve instilled enough kindness into them that they spread the same along their ways of life, I’ll take one of the little jars of gratitude off the shelf and read them.
I’ll sit quietly, unfolding each little square, and see that other people in my daughter’s life also instill her with kindness, graciousness, and joy. They’re recognizing her growth and cheering her on in ways maybe a mother can’t.
We always see the beauty and extraordinary in our kids, but it means something entirely different for others to see.
And so, tonight, as she writes her little messages to her friends and castmates, delivering them their little slips of paper full of joy and kindness, I know that what she’s found is so much more than what hits the stage. What’s growing inside her will stay long after the final scene.
