The Cast Party
The cast party for Children of Eden was over a week or so ago, the experience I had has stayed with me--especially since prom was this past Saturday, and I consider again the decision I made not to go.
The cast party was a blast. Even though I'm pretty much a wallflower at parties, I still had a good time feeding off of other people's energy and laughing at their antics. The food was great--but I suspect food always tastes better after a show. Two of our teachers were with us, and we tried to convince them to a Guitar Hero face off (without success), only to migrate upstairs for the biggest (and shortest) game of Cranium I've ever seen. With all of us going in a million different directions, it felt like being in the middle of a storm of falling stars; even my more reserved friends were glowing and ricocheting off of each other in ways I had never seen before. And I, a wallflower in full-bloom, sat beneath the technicolor rain in silent awe.
Especially when these stars began to dance--a giant, gyrating orgy of lights rubbing and kindling each other with with an intensity so fierce and free, they seemed untouchable.
And I admit, as I basked in their light, I wished--if only for a moment--to set myself ablaze and join the dance... never had a fall from grace seemed so graceful.
But I turned to see another girl standing to the side... not a wallflower like me and the small handful of others who could only watch. No, she was our Eve--both in Children of Eden, and in real life. These stars danced around her, but she held her place with poise and certainty.
"I have church tomorrow," she excused herself softly, speaking the silent thoughts of one particular wallflower who still--after all this time--needs a sun to turn to.
And like the sun, our Eve lifted her eyes and rose. A sunrise in a basement, a miracle I won't soon forget--and like a moth to a flame, I followed her up the stairs so I would not become a withered wallflower in darkness.
Even though the party continued late into the night, I left soon after I went upstairs. Our Eve had already illustrated to me the vulnerable nature of wallflowers--how sensitive they are to light--and the importance of being the sun to a garden of wallflowers in a basement when it really, truly matters.
I needed to go home and think about why I was a wallflower, and not a sun, when I know better.
And despite how much I've thought about this since it happened, I still do not have an answer.
But I do know that the metamorphisis from a wallflower to a blazing sun is just the kind of miracle Heavenly Father expects from me.
(P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I found this hilarious website: The Brick Testament. Have fun!)
The cast party was a blast. Even though I'm pretty much a wallflower at parties, I still had a good time feeding off of other people's energy and laughing at their antics. The food was great--but I suspect food always tastes better after a show. Two of our teachers were with us, and we tried to convince them to a Guitar Hero face off (without success), only to migrate upstairs for the biggest (and shortest) game of Cranium I've ever seen. With all of us going in a million different directions, it felt like being in the middle of a storm of falling stars; even my more reserved friends were glowing and ricocheting off of each other in ways I had never seen before. And I, a wallflower in full-bloom, sat beneath the technicolor rain in silent awe.
Especially when these stars began to dance--a giant, gyrating orgy of lights rubbing and kindling each other with with an intensity so fierce and free, they seemed untouchable.
And I admit, as I basked in their light, I wished--if only for a moment--to set myself ablaze and join the dance... never had a fall from grace seemed so graceful.
But I turned to see another girl standing to the side... not a wallflower like me and the small handful of others who could only watch. No, she was our Eve--both in Children of Eden, and in real life. These stars danced around her, but she held her place with poise and certainty.
"I have church tomorrow," she excused herself softly, speaking the silent thoughts of one particular wallflower who still--after all this time--needs a sun to turn to.
And like the sun, our Eve lifted her eyes and rose. A sunrise in a basement, a miracle I won't soon forget--and like a moth to a flame, I followed her up the stairs so I would not become a withered wallflower in darkness.
Even though the party continued late into the night, I left soon after I went upstairs. Our Eve had already illustrated to me the vulnerable nature of wallflowers--how sensitive they are to light--and the importance of being the sun to a garden of wallflowers in a basement when it really, truly matters.
I needed to go home and think about why I was a wallflower, and not a sun, when I know better.
And despite how much I've thought about this since it happened, I still do not have an answer.
But I do know that the metamorphisis from a wallflower to a blazing sun is just the kind of miracle Heavenly Father expects from me.
(P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I found this hilarious website: The Brick Testament. Have fun!)
