Surrender: Releasing the Future to God
I’m willing to bet I am one of the most indecisive people you will ever meet. That said, the spring of 2020 set in motion one of the most intense discernment processes I think I’ve experienced yet.
I got into my local Fringe Festival a couple months before COVID hit. For those who don’t know, Fringe Festivals are for short, independent theatre productions, and the participating artists are primarily decided by lotteries. They happen annually in cities all over North America (and worldwide). I have done three, but only my first in 2012 was in the town where I live. I had been applying to my town’s festival every year since then, and finally, I was drawn in the lottery for the 2020 festival. Of course, just my luck - that would be the year affected by a global pandemic. For months, the world was essentially on pause. A large majority of decisions were being made for us. The state of the arts in particular felt very uncertain and low-priority.
In the late spring, I was faced with the first decision about whether to participate in an altered, primarily virtual version of the Fringe. Long story short, I decided to take the leap, but a few weeks later, the festival organizers decided to abandon the whole plan after all. Though it wasn’t the decision I had made initially, it felt right in the end. They deferred our spots to 2021, hoping and expecting the world would be back to normal.
The next year, however, the decision was even harder, as the plan was to have the festival be in front of live audiences- - albeit with smaller, socially distanced audiences, and of course following health orders. But having to make this decision in March about an August event put me pretty much at war with myself. In fact, I said yes in March literally just to buy myself more time, knowing I could still drop out until May. I asked countless friends for their opinions. I joked with coworkers that I should get two of them to take opposite sides and argue it like a trial. I feel like the process of making the decision could have made a pretty compelling play in itself.
I had many factors contributing to my decision. In a way, I wasn’t so much worried about my own health and safety. It was more about whether it was responsible to be encouraging people to gather during a pandemic (even if it was their choice). Also, I wondered whether I would have the mental strength and motivation to put towards rehearsing a show while struggling through my own pandemic stresses. I reminded myself of the relief I had felt when my previous “yes” got taken away.
On the other side, there was the heartbreak of giving up a spot I’d been trying to get for eight years, without knowing when it would come again. Part of me was terrified that I was less of an artist if I gave up this opportunity to put my work out there.
Annie Alexiou, @candidlycomposed.
It was a lot.
Eventually, I dropped out. I knew it was the right decision, but that didn’t automatically make it less sad. That may be one of the hardest things about discernment. That small tinge of sadness that can still accompany the certainty that you made the right decision.
I said several times in my process that if I just had a crystal ball that could tell me what things would look like, I could have maybe said yes. But I did not have a crystal ball, and when the time came, the six weeks of the festival did not even stay consistent with each other. While masks were not required for the first few weeks of audiences, both masks and vaccine passports were put in place by the end. No one could have predicted any of it.
I think that is the biggest thing I took away from this situation; only God knows the future. All we can do is use the information we have, spend time in silence truly weighing all of the options, and deeply listen for where our will and desires and God’s will and desires overlap. I’m sure God and I both want me to have the opportunity to develop and showcase the talents He has given me. But God also wants me to feel safe and responsible doing it. And while I can’t guarantee that it won’t take another eight years for another opportunity, the future is out of my control. All I can do is trust that if it is God’s will, that opportunity will come again sooner rather than later.
Meet Kayla Hart
Kayla Hart is from British Columbia, Canada, and has a BFA in Writing from the University of Victoria. In addition to being a daughter of God, she considers herself a singer, an occasional playwright, and a musical theatre nerd. This is her second year with Live Today Well – after answering a call for photographers last summer – and she is very excited to be contributing to the writing side this year. You can find her on Instagram as @hartofsilver and @hartofsilverproductions.