I took myself to the attic and left her there.
Maybe it was because I was tired. Or – maybe, just maybe – God told me to leave her there. I’d like to think it was about obedience. But here’s how it all went down.
I had performed dramas for churches and women’s gatherings for over ten years. Exhilaration soared when I performed. Audiences varied in size. Sometimes over 100. Other times, small, quaint women’s events.
The number of people didn’t matter. After each performance, as I walked off the stage, I thought, That’s what I was made for.
I could slip into Esther’s royal clothes or Rahab’s PG-rated costume and assume their life stories. I wrote the scripts to help their faith message come alive in the 21st century. I felt like I knew them.
Sometimes I thought I was them – at times wondering what name I should put on my grave marker: Here lies Karen/Esther/Rahab.
Then life got messy. My dad unexpectantly passed away. Eight months later, my beloved 96 year-old aunt that I helped care for died. Within the week, Mom’s death blindsided us.
I went from being Karen/Esther/Rahab to not knowing who I was, where I fit in, or how I could take the next step.
I was tired. Sad. Grief-stricken.
In the middle of this introspection, I had forgotten I scheduled a performance for what would be five months after we buried my mom. No problem, I thought. Surely I would be recovered by then.
Anxiety built as the performance approached. Could I speak in front of people? Would I remember my lines? Could I be a believable character with everything I had just gone through?
I had made the commitment, so I started praying. I prayed through the fear. I prayed about my attitude of simply not wanting to do it.
In my car one day, it seemed as if God whispered, “It’s okay to quit. You don’t have to keep doing this.”
Maybe it was God’s sense of humor adding, “It’s time to let younger women tote around scenery, cake on layers of make-up and dress up like somebody else.”
My heart shouted, “REALLY? I don’t have to keep doing this?”
It seemed strange to want to release something I was made for. But, after more praying, I knew this season was over.
The last performance was well received by a warm, friendly group of women. I fought a few tears as I left the stage, but I knew this was right. And it felt good.
A few days later, I gathered all my props, costumes, and scripts. I boxed them up and took myself to the attic and left her there. Another season finale.
Changing seasons can be hard, although sometimes they are met with excitement. Either way, I know God endorses change.
He will help me – and you – through those changes. He will love on us, calm our fears, and even show us what’s on the next season’s schedule.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1
©2016 Karen Morerod
Karen Morerod lives and writes to encourage others, to point them to the One who knows and loves them more than they can imagine. You can find her on her front porch, with her family, or sneaking chocolate at www.karenmorerod.com and on Facebook.