"The feminine is that which receives inspiration, grace, life, holds it within the body, and gives it existence. Woman is the receiver through whom God transmits the life-giving signal of His love into the world. The mediatrix. The medium in His will made manifest...She is child-bearer, certainly, but also the bearer of artistic works, political hopes, new ideas, healing knowledge, community histories, loves and remembrances treasured in the heart."
- Melinda Selmys, Mysteries You Learned Disguised

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ² He was in the beginning with God; ³ all things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made." John 1:1-3

From the beginning, the Word had me. Words had me. That Word was made flesh and dwelt amongst me and my loved ones, pouring Himself out through the hands of my mother and father, their daily acts of sacrifice writing the first love story I learned.

It wasn't long before I too, wrote stories, took words and made them flesh, let them ring out in song, or move and have their being onstage, or messily wrestle with eternity on pages that ended up in the pockets of friends and family. Worlds born from the womb of my mind and heart spun into others' orbits, depositing seeds and debris, to my delight and dismay, respectively.

Without knowing it, I was imitating the life of Mary, the first word-bearer, the Woman whose "Yes" undid Eve's "No".

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To say yes to the love story of God, to carry Him – and thus, others, as He is always in the least of these - is to open oneself to the life abundant, replete with both joy and suffering. Maddeningly, the two are often intertwined. Your children will drive you insane, yet are the ones who make you laugh the most. The works you sweat over will twist your hands with arthritis, roughen your fingers, fatigue your muscles, wear your joints, and break your heart.

As both a subject and co-author in the love story of my life, I have noticed that there is really no getting away from such labour pains. I can prepare well, rest adequately, put a thousand plans of prevention in place, but there will always be interruptions, demands from others, my own character faults and the pesky fact that I am not God, and so I cannot see all I wish I could. The narrative I would love to run with gets resisted by reality and of course, I then rail against the unfairness of it all. And yet, if I direct my work towards the good, true and the beautiful, it becomes the means through which the Potter moulds me into a work of art.

At least, I hope so. This is the story I have learned to tell myself because my CV doesn’t tell the story I wished it did. When I was younger, I dreamed of Broadway, of being a working singer, of continuing to be a favourite amongst the powers that be. (It never occurred to me that some of those whom I hoped to please would not necessarily be like the teachers I had who had championed me, but more like the highschool peers whose cliques were closed to those who failed popularity contests, based on ever elusive criteria.) I never cared much about riches so living simply was never a great shock or burden, but the one story that didn’t exist in my mind was one of my life ending up, well, average, or one where career success wasn’t primary.

Over time, I’ve adjusted. I quietly said goodbye to Broadway in my heart, to being any kind of name, and simply focused on artistic and personal integrity: that is a story I can always trust myself to tell, or, at least it is what I attempt to return to when lost. Every once in awhile, I’m permitted a glimpse of the fruit of those efforts, investments in things which seem to call to me. Those things never seem particularly business savvy or something destined to move me up any known ladder of success...but they always seem urgent and necessary.

Such a glimpse came this past Sunday evening, on Mother’s Day, at the year end showcase for the inaugural Canadian Musical Theatre Writers’ Collective Montreal Writers’ Workshop. A year and a half ago, I had approached Landon Braverman during the CMTWC Blame Canada Montreal concert, asking him how many people I would need to run the writers’ workshop in Montreal. He told me 12, and so I set about hustling on FB groups, and bothering any friends I knew who had ever written anything in the hopes that the class could go forward.

While there was initially a good deal of self interest in my endeavour - I long had been looking for formal collaborations with composers and this seemed to be an ideal set up – I also had an inkling that there were writing voices in our unique province within Canada that were waiting to be heard.

I was right.

Those voices came forward and formed a lovely class, masterfully mentored by Jonathan Monro, that met bi-weekly from Oct to April, collaborating on various song forms within the musical theatre genre, and culminating in the writing of a 10 minute musical in pairs. Sunday evening featured a selection from our work throughout the year, performed with aplomb by Michael Daniel Murphy, Justin Eddy, Katee Julien, Sara Wunsch, yours truly, and Marie-Pierre de Brienne. My special thanks to Marie-Pierre for singing my song here below, written with Cynthia Chalifour.

The work was varied and interesting - we sang about umbrellas, demons, kittens, tea, and avocados, just to name a few subjects – and the atmosphere in the room was attentive and joyous.

As creators, it was rewarding to see our work brought to life in front of an audience – an audience that filled the Arts Lounge at the Segal Centre, I might add – and the audience seemed to respond to this newness.

As I watched and participated in the congratulatory buzz following the performance, feeling immense pride in my classmates’ talent and work, it occurred to me that it made perfect sense for me personally to have this event be part of Mother’s Day: I had carried a dream to term, helped push it into the world, and now it was breathing on its own.

“...blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord." And Mary said, "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden.” Luke 1:45-48

I had originally planned to go dancing tonight but age - no, rather, maturity and a desire to do some professional housekeeping and reflection kept me cosy in my room, eating carrots and dip (ok, I confess I had a notable amount of dill pickle and sour cream & onion chips prior to these!) and listening to tracks from Tori Kelly’s latest album.  

As I began doing a re-cap of 2018 in numbers, I thought I wouldn’t have much to show.  While I have been far happier as a full time freelancer than I was in my last year or two of a desk job that stole my joy and my health, it is an existence that more often than not makes me feel as though nothing is really being built: no fortune, no fame, nothing that the world considers a marker of success.

Surprisingly, when I did count the things that could be counted, there was much more than I had remembered, and each thing I counted was more than simply a checkmark or a goal reached, but an unfolding of my person, and, I hope, the mission which has been entrusted to me by God.

So here is 2018, by the numbers:

Firsts: 13

In meticulously combing through my calendar I realized that while this felt like a quiet year (with the exception of Fame), it was in fact a year where I did many things for the first time.

As mentioned, this was my first full year as a freelancer and the work included my first time:

Cantoring at a major basilica (St Patrick’s),

dancing & working on a major American movie set (Midway),

writing and preparing dramatic sketches for staff training with the Cree school board,

singing for a major corporate gig out of town

being a musical guest on a TV program at Concordia

And of course, there was Fame.  

I wrote a great deal on it before here and here so I won’t repeat myself but I cannot tell you just how much it meant to finally experience a life long dream.  Not only was it an artistically incredible experience, but it was a reassurance that I hadn’t been foolish in pursuing performance in the first place, that I could not only handle a lead role in a large scale professional musical (and finally be paid - this was only the 2nd time!) but that I could do it with almost no preparation time and be trusted to step into some very large shoes (Marie-Denise might say that large shoes were part of the problem: je continue a lui souhaiter la guérison et l’amour!)  

Daniel Ouimet was kind enough to give me an honourable mention in writing up his musical theatre "coups de coeur" for 2018, with Fame being named as best French musical, and castmates Jordan Donoghue and Marie-Denise Pelletier recognized as revelation of the year and best female actor, respectively, and a nod to Serge Postigo as well, as director.

Check out Marie-Denise's tour dates here on her website!

At this point, I am trying to figure out how much performance will play a part in my future.  

Do I keep actively pursuing auditions?

Is that the right place to put my energy?

While Fame was a major breakthrough, I, for the most part, have always seemed to experience near misses for major productions and often been the “wrong age” for everything.  At 20 years old I was told I played way older than 20 and so couldn’t be considered for 19 year old Sophie in Mamma Mia. This year I was told that I looked too young to play 40 for the moms in Dear Evan Hansen.  Despite not booking the job, this was my favourite audition of the year, with the longest callback I’ve ever had.  The casting team worked intensely with me; I think I spent a total of two and a half hours between the two auditions. It’s exhausting to be told no so often but I do feel that I can now handle rejection with more peace because what I am after no longer feels impossible because it is something that I have never reached.

It’s important to be grateful and realistic because it is entirely possible that Fame may be the only opportunity of that kind that I will ever receive...but it couldn’t have been more perfect.  

And, I’m finally a UdA member!

2018 also marked my first:

visit to a synagogue for Purim

niece (a month old today!),

first time making challah bread, cinnamon rolls and hosting Xmas dinner,

as well as first time getting accupuncture, doing a Blanket Exercise to learn about indigenous history, hosting a Christian Artists Wine & Cheese night, (a prelude to the retreat this March) and online dating: my only regret!!

Jobs: 10

(This number refers to ongoing work  as opposed to individual gigs.)  Amazingly, all of these jobs save three were artistically related, and the three that weren’t artistic in nature I obtained through contacts in the arts.  Singing and teaching took most of my time: two church music jobs, 6 - 10 voice students over the course of the year, and a variety of funerals, weddings, private parties, corporate gigs, and subbing as a choir conductor and for children’s theatre classes.

Shows: 16

This included 3 shows on Broadway, including Hello Dolly with the legendary Bernadette Peters

 an Andrea Bocelli concert,

and the homegrown success of Come From Away in Toronto, a gift from my parents.

The other things that can’t be so easily categorized but deserve a mention are: the scene study classes I attended through the Centaur, the How to Succeed in Music Theatre Conference in Toronto held by the CMTWC,

the inaugural Musical Theatre Writers’ Workshop class in Montreal that I helped organize (also through CMTWC and taught by Jonathan Monro), within which I've written lyrics for two new songs with Graham Isaak and Sara Wunsch; a record number of duets/collaborations for gigs and Broadway Cafe, a trip to DC to see my goddaughter, being asked to be godmother for a second time, and guest lecturing at McGill for the Intro to Catholicism class again.

Most important of all, though, is this : it is well with my soul.

 I am being built.

At the end of my life, it will be me facing God, and He will not care about my CV or my bank account or my stats, only my heart.