Livin’ the Dream
I've been thinking a lot lately about dreams. Not the kind you have when you're asleep, but the kind you casually throw out into the universe and then, years later, look around and think, Wait a minute. Did that actually happen?!
About four years ago, I made some off-the-cuff comment about wanting to write a book someday. I don't remember there being some grand announcement or elaborate plan. It was just something I wanted to do. Something I thought would be pretty cool. Well, here we are, four years later, and I've written a freakin' BOOK!
I've spent the better part of the last several months working with laser focus on putting the finishing touches on Living in the And: Finding Christ in the Unfinished Places of Our Lives. I've written, rewritten, edited, questioned, rearranged, restructured, reworked, and probably driven a few people absolutely bonkers along the way. And now, here I am, at the finish line, holding something that used to exist only as an idea in my head.
I don't know what happens next. Maybe it becomes an international bestseller and I make a million dollars. Maybe I sell a few copies to people who already love me. Maybe it opens doors I haven't even imagined yet. Who knows? But here's the thing: I wrote it. I actually did the damn thing. And regardless of what happens next, I'm incredibly proud of that.
The more I've thought about it this week, the more I've realized this isn't the first time something like this has happened in my life.
When I was in high school, I absolutely WORSHIPED my theatre teacher, Kevin. He was everything I thought I wanted to be when I grew up. He was married, had three kids, was a working actor and director, loved Shakespeare, and taught high school theatre at Mountain View. And then there's the small detail that he once told me I had no talent and would never make it as an actor. Thanks, Kevin!
But here's what might surprise you: I genuinely appreciate that he told me that. Those were hard words to hear, especially from someone I admired so much, but they lit a fire under me. I wasn't discouraged. I was determined. Watch me.
I sometimes wonder what would've happened if he'd just told me I was wonderful, cast me in every show I wanted, and sent me on my merry way. Would I have worked as hard? Would I have pushed myself to get better? Or would I have learned to expect opportunities simply because I wanted them? I don't know. What I do know is that his honesty became one of the greatest gifts anyone ever gave me.
Now, having spent years as a theatre teacher and director myself, I understand the other side of that conversation a little better. I've worked with students who have extraordinary natural talent and absolutely no idea how gifted they are. They're like magical unicorns! They're humble, kind, sometimes painfully shy, and genuinely surprised when you tell them how wonderful they are. I've also worked with students who aren't quite there yet but want it SO badly that they're willing to work their tails off to improve. I love those kids! I love rewarding their effort and watching them grow.
And then, of course, there are the occasional ego-driven asshats who believe they're God's gift to theatre. I've had to remind more than one young performer that their talent doesn't merit their ego. Check yourself, friend. Because here's something I tell my students all the time: You don't have to like everyone, but you do have to be kind to everyone. Talent is wonderful, but nobody wants to work with a diva. I've occasionally wanted to give a student the same blunt assessment Kevin gave me, but I haven't. At least not yet. There's still time!
The older I get, the more I appreciate how much that experience shaped my work ethic. And the really funny part? I got married. I have three kids. I've worked as an actor and director. I love Shakespeare. And I taught high school theatre at Mountain View. WHAT IS MY LIFE?!
Somewhere along the way, I became the person I used to dream about becoming. Not an exact replica, obviously, but close enough that I sometimes have to laugh at how it all worked out. And that's not the only dream I've managed to stumble into.
In 2016, I casually posted on Facebook that Steel Magnolias was my favorite play and that if anyone wanted me to direct it, I was available, ready, and willing. Just putting it out there into the universe! That little declaration eventually helped create something I never could've imagined: Broadway at the Mountain. My Broadway friends came together and volunteered their time and talents to work with my theatre students, and we raised a butt-ton of scholarship money in the process.
What started as a casual Facebook post turned into an extraordinary experience for those kids and for me. We did that for five years in a row until I left Mountain View. I've gone on to direct Steel Magnolias two other times since then as well!
And then there was Broadway itself. I had dreamed about auditioning for a Broadway show for more than 30 years. I had every reason in the world not to fly across the country and do it. It was expensive, inconvenient, intimidating, and there was absolutely no guarantee anything would come of it. But in 2024, I went. I got on an airplane, flew across the country, walked into that audition room, and auditioned for BROADWAY!
I didn't book the show. I did, however, receive some really wonderful feedback, and the entire experience was something I'll treasure forever. I walked away feeling so proud of myself because I had finally done something I'd dreamed about for years. And you know what? I'm ready to do it again when the opportunity presents itself.
I don't have to get the part for the audition to matter. I don't have to sell a million books for writing one to be an accomplishment. I don't need every dream to end exactly the way I imagined it for the experience of pursuing it to be worthwhile. Sometimes the dream is simply getting to do the thing.
Of course, not all my childhood predictions worked out according to plan. For example, I used to tell my Gramma that I was going to be married by the time I was 21. And if I wasn't married by 21, I was going to become a monk, move into the mountains somewhere, and make cheese.
WHY?!
I have absolutely no freakin' idea. I don't know why I chose monkhood as my backup career or why cheese production was apparently going to be my life's calling, but I was very committed to this particular plan.
Well, I got married at 24, three years behind schedule, so I suppose I technically missed my deadline. But I did marry Allyson, and we have three incredible kids, so I'd say things worked out pretty well. And I DO love cheese, so there's that. For the record, some monks actually DO make cheese. So if this whole actor-director-teacher-author thing doesn't work out, there's still time for a dramatic career pivot.
But perhaps the most surprising thing about all these dreams is that I'm still here to enjoy them. For years, I used to say I would be dead by 40. I don't know that I could've explained exactly why I believed that, but I genuinely struggled to imagine myself growing much older than that. Given some of the things I've experienced throughout my life, I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense.
And yet, here I am nine years past my self-imposed expiration date, doing better than I ever imagined I would. That's not something I take lightly. I've had some incredibly difficult chapters in my life, and I certainly haven't figured everything out. But I'm here. I'm happy. I'm still dreaming, still making plans, and still finding reasons to laugh at myself along the way.
Which brings me to this past week. We've been on fall break, and I am VERY proud to announce that I have done precisely ZERO school-related work. Not one thing. Not a lesson plan, not a rehearsal preparation, not a single moment spent trying to get ahead for the next quarter. NOTHING. And it has been GLORIOUS!
I've watched football with Max, stayed up until ridiculous hours watching movies with my kids, slept in most mornings, and yesterday I didn't even bother getting out of my pajamas or taking a shower. I know. Living the glamorous life of an internationally renowned future bestselling author.
It's taken me twelve years in education to finally establish this boundary and actually honor it. For so long, I've bought into the idea that if I wasn't working, planning, preparing, or doing something productive, I was somehow being lazy. Teachers are particularly good at convincing ourselves that there's always one more thing we should be doing. And there usually is. But that doesn't mean we have to do it.
I have friends who've spent their fall breaks working on lesson plans, grading, preparing, and trying to get ahead. And if that's what works for them, wonderful! But this year, I decided I was going to take an actual break. I have a family. I have a life outside my classroom. I have other things I love doing. And frankly, I deserve to sit on my couch and watch football with my son without feeling guilty about it.
Tomorrow I'll go back to work, and Tuesday the kids will return. Will I feel a little behind the eight ball? Possibly. But I've been doing this long enough to know that I could spend every waking hour preparing, and the minute students walk through the door, half my plans would probably go right out the window anyway. So I chose the pajamas. And I regret NOTHING.
We did manage to get out of the house for one little adventure this week. Allyson, the kids, and I snuck up to Jerome, Arizona, for dinner at one of my absolute favorite restaurants, The Clinkscale. Oh. My. GOODNESS. The food there makes me so ridiculously happy that I sometimes wonder whether my relationship with food is entirely normal. Seriously, if you haven't been, GO. It's incredible.
We met up with friends, enjoyed an absolutely wonderful meal, and spent some much-needed time together. One of my favorite parts of the day actually happened during the drive up. Allyson read the first two chapters of my book aloud to the kids.
That was an interesting experience. My children know me as Dad. They know the guy who tells terrible jokes, watches football, directs shows, and occasionally embarrasses them in public. But there are so many things about my childhood and my life before they came along that they don't know. Hearing Allyson read those stories aloud and watching their reactions was something I won't soon forget. It was a little surreal to have them learning about parts of my life that helped shape the person they've always known, and I was grateful to share that with them.
I've also been especially aware lately of how quickly time is moving. Max will begin his home MTC training the day before Thanksgiving and leave for his mission on December 2. Which means the number of ordinary evenings I have left with him at home is getting smaller by the day. UGH! I'm so excited for him, and I'm proud of the young man he's becoming. But I also know I'm going to miss him like crazy. So if I have an opportunity to sit on the couch and watch football with him, that's exactly where I want to be. The lesson plans can wait.
And now it's Sunday evening. I'm sitting here writing this blog while Allyson makes cookies, knowing that tomorrow it's back to the real world. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't happily take another week off. Some of my teacher friends actually GET another week, and I'm trying very hard not to be jealous. But I'm not dreading going back, either. I've had a wonderful break. I've spent time with people I love. I've made memories. I've rested. And I've reached the finish line on a book that, four years ago, was nothing more than a passing thought.
I've spent so much of my life dreaming about the things I wanted to do that I almost forgot to look around and recognize how many of them I've already done. And some of the best parts of my life aren't things I ever thought to put on a dream list. They're ordinary evenings with my family, dinners with friends, and watching my children grow into themselves.
I once thought I'd be dead by 40. Instead, I'm 49, writing a book, dreaming about Broadway, contemplating a career in artisanal cheese production, and hoping my wife saves me a cookie.
Life is good. And I think I might just keep announcing my dreams out loud to see what happens.
So, for the record, universe: I'm going to be a millionaire.
Hey, you never know.
In the meantime, I'm already livin' the dream.
