Introducing ~ {drum roll, please!}

It's a Newsy Day at ChoiceCentral, Choosers! Due to the "new page" or "new chapter" being written in The Adventure, the decision has been made to spin off a new blog dedicated to our entertainment industry journey.

My Son, The Actor is a brand new addition to ChoiceCentral - the place to find all things 'groupie' related, journey-journaled in the days ahead. :D A main link will be supplied here soon, as well as a groovy new pad furnished for the rather spartan room currently sporting the very first post of our Michigan story: First Class Freak Out.

You'll not want to miss the party, now expanded to two blogospheric rooms! :D

Much is lined up for today . . . don't miss out! Seat belts fastened?? I heard the motor start!

Baby Gold Wing Is Comin' To Town . . .

My mother is so predicatable, so readable, so . . .

She sent me a listing for a local cottage for rent, minus any personal commentary as to why. Beautiful, spacious, with horses.

But you see, I *know* my mother.

I wrote back and asked: "So, did you book it?"

The reply came quickly: "No, I reserved a room at _________!"

"When will you get here?" I excitedly asked.

"Sunday. Motorcycle in tow. Leaving this morning."

{{SNOOPY DANCE!!!}}

It's Official. It's True. It's Real.

Somebody pinch me!


Meet "Garrett" in 2010.

Coming soon, to a theatre near you!

{snoopydance!}

:D

The Bully

At the time, we didn't know he was a replacement. Not that it mattered much on the front end ~ we were too busy trying to find the nonexistent building that was clearly marked as the address on the audition sheet. Thankfully, I had built in a time cushion that served us well.

The building loomed tall on the hustling street. Sunglasses, skirts, tiny dogs on leashes; a business suit or two, and a cigarette out on the veranda were our visual markers of destination.

Entering the building, and taking our seats, Keller suddenly became quite a handful. Very unusual for this young lad, who loves to take in his surroundings in quiet fashion. I utilized every momma trick in the book to keep him content.

The hallway was a busy one. Boys, moms, even a grandma; students and a docent. Offices with tall skinny windows gave evidence of life on the other side of each wall.

One by one, the boys were called into the room. One by one each boy exited the room, gathered his parent, and walked toward the elevator. Finally, Israel's turn.


He had been quietly intent on the script before him, studious, and prepared. I whisked Keller away, on yet another attempt to keep him satisfied for just a few more minutes.

Around the corner, Israel came. I locked eyes with him, surprised. He knew the question without me verbally recounting it.

"They gave me the wrong script."

My face flushed white, and my eyes widened. This was a first.

The actor was lost in readjustment.

*********

The casting director reread her list, detailing those who were to be in attendance. The young man before her had no place among the names. She made a decision to keep her mouth shut, and see what he could do.

***********
The freeway was bumper to bumper, but moving. Finding a steady position, I dialed Israel's manager. An incorrect address was one thing. But two incorrect pieces of information in one communication? At the very least, the company needed to know. Detailing our difficulty, our conversation was cut off.

"There is a call coming in. I've got to take it. I'll call you back." she said.

**********
The phone rang. "Angi, that was casting. If you only knew what a miracle this whole audition has been. On your side, the wrong address, the wrong script; on my side - I had sent Israel in as a replacement, and was only able to leave a voicemail. The casting director took him in as a wild card ~ all of that . . .and Israel has BOOKED IT!"

*******
Just a day ago, a major television project had slipped through Israel's fingers, all while receiving glowing reviews. As disappointing as it had been, he gave God the glory, win or lose.

The Lord saw fit to honor his upright heart attitude, and grant my son, the actor, placement in a short film.

His role? A lead part: The Bully.

Next weekend? On location.

Celebrate with us!

John answered and said, A man can receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven. John 3:27

Special Treat

Today is a very special day.

I hope to have the opportunity to take photographs.

Perhaps, even say "Thank you."

Live! From California . . .

My husband can be practical and prudent almost to a fault. (Of course, he'd say I'm impractical and impetuous to the same degree. Eh. Opposites attract, right?) :)

Quite some time has passed since I made request of him to invest $40 bucks into a webcam. He didn't want to do it. Seems he recalled that his camera had webcam capabilities, and, not wanting to overlap functionality, it seemed far-fetched to make a new purchase.

Not wanting to nag, nor frustrate him, I've languished in the land of 'if only' - relinquishing any hope that he'd ever look up the data on his camera, and, that most likely, that he'd forgotten the request altogether.

Well, interesting things happen when one prays. A couple of weeks ago, Gil and I had prayed that the Lord would open a door, that Gil not miss Keller's first birthday milestone. It would seem poignantly sad to miss such an auspicious occasion. He'd never have opportunity to celebrate such a first again. Was it worth it to miss it? Was a birthday really such a big deal that he should even consider it?

Of course, in my realm, I wanted Gil to fly out and spend the weekend with us. [Insert reminder of practical and prudent here.]

Imagine my surprise this morning when, unprodded, my GilGuy reports that he has researched the camera capabilities. The results? Nada on the webcam. This information means that a new device is necessary!

I almost can't contain my excitement! Very shortly my man will return home from the local retail discount store with hardware in hand.

I've not laid eyes on my guy for six weeks.

Where's the boom mike?!?

{tap, tap, tap!}

"Am I on??"

********
Thank You, Lord, for this gift. I am giddily grateful!!

Newly Minted . . .

The Lord has finally spoken.

The fullness of time and lessons learned has come to fruition.

A new phase of the journey is set to begin.

For those who walked with us through the dark night of growing pains, will you now join us in a resounding SHOUT OUT to the King of Kings, then, take a knee, while we honor Him: the One who opens and shuts doors, and answers the prayers of young girls desirous of fulfilling their dreams.

Ladies and Gents, Choosers Everywhere, may I present to you the newest thespian of the family, secured by an agency as of last night:

Banner Day in Hollywood

So, yesterday my son, the actor, and I had the priviledge of being on the grounds of two major production companies. What fruit those two endeavors will bring remains to be seen.

It's quite an event, walking the grounds of the source of too-numerous-to-be-counted creative works that have influenced the culture of America, and even the world. Movie posters . . . er - billboards looming larger than life, making bold declarations of their existance and impact from bygone eras to the movies of tomorrow. These places are little cities unto themselves, complete with studios, golf carts and security personnel on every corner.

Oh. And squirrels.

We were enamored with the squirrels. Amidst all the behind the scenes activities and preparations belonging to a major corporation, the little creatures became our focus, delighting us with thier inquisitive request for foodstuffs.

They were only slightly hesitant. Like a cat, curious, but not willing to be picked up. And, of course, if they discovered the 'uman didn't actually have any treat to hand out, they'd quickly chatter and retreat.

From his cozy spot in the sling, Keller took in the antics of these little guys time and time again.

He watched and watched intently . . .up until it began raining nuts on our heads.

Yep. A squirrel, obviously miffed at us for not giving out any goods, ran up to an overhanging branch and began to shake it, causing nuts to fall everywhere. At this, Israel jumped up, and began to call to the squirrel on high.

Mr. Squirrel could not be appeased.

He nailed Israel in the arm with a nut he had been holding.

I am not kidding.

The squirrel threw a nut at Israel and nailed him!

Egads.

**********

Meanwhile, upon returning home, we discovered the latest commercial up and running. Have you seen it yet? ABC's Opportunity Knocks promo.

Way cool.

He's the one with the laptop.

Again.

:D

Yeah. That's So Raven.

Well, so much for my well planned Sunday afternoon pool party. Appreciate me, Choosers . . .because today, instead of taking you on a two part journey filled with anticipation and squeals of dismay, delight, and drama, I'm splaying it ALL out for you. Here and now. All 85 -pared-down-to-12 pictures worth of the saga that took over my day. And my best laid plans. :D

I've been wanting to do this for some time ~ take a picnic lunch poolside after Sunday fellowship, and enjoy an afternoon with the children and any company, frolicking in the water for hours. I'd finally made an executive decision to Just. Do. It. for pete's sake! and gathered the initial supplies to make it happen. That is, all except for the bucket of fried chicken. Determining that to ease my time in the kitchen, I'd pick some up from KFC, or perhaps Wal-mart.

At the last minute, I toted the entire fam, plus Aubrey's friend Cami into the "city gates" (a loving nickname for WM) for the said such chicken.

We didn't even make it past the foyer.

Aubrey eye-spied, loomin' large, a massive banner hanging across the walkway. It read:

RAVEN-SYMONE` DVD SIGNING: 3:00 PM AUGUST 10!

Suddenly, emotional choas broke out in unprecedented form.

"Mom! Mom! PUH-lease! Can we stay? Can we stay, huh? Can we?? PUH-lease?!?!?" And, for those of you with children, you can fully imagine the press that I was subject to for the next, oh . . .THREE hours, even after I'd fully stated my position that we go home, eat, and return.

So, we did just that. No picnic. No swim. No fun for Mom. Just a constant ramping up of teenaged anticipation, complete with declarations of just what, exactly, was going to be discussed, once the teen-with-stars-in-her-eyes approached the star-with-pen-in-hand.

We arrived thirty minutes early, to a line that snaked out of the Garden Center and almost onto the parking lot. Egads.

A DVD purchase snafu ensued, but I'll spare you the gruesome details of my numerous treks across the Wal-Mart storehouse of goods to secure the *proper* DVD for signing. Trust me, you are glad I am doing this. :D

FINALLY, proper product in hand, I joined the fibrillating girls to wait.



Oh, my, the wait. It seemed interminiable. Hot. Full of teenaged angst and antics. Here, a picture of said such angst:

Aubrey, demanding an instant photo-shoot, plops herself down on the stack of patio chairs. I comply by taking out my camera.



However, the young man in front of us decided to move at *just* the right moment, thereby walking in front of the lens. As you can see, Aubrey is now disgruntled at his *obvious* lack of judgment:

As a matter of fact, I do believe those are daggers in her eyes. Or at the very least, a proclamation of: "RAWR!"

Cami was the easier going of the two. She took every blessed sweaty moment in stride with quite the pleasant attitude.

But, as you can see, Aubrey continued her dramatic flair of angst. It's all in the eyebrowns, people. All in the eyebrows:

At the juncture in which we moved out of the Garden Center staging area, into the air conditioned garden supplies staging area, everyone's ability to cope shifted a bit. It was much easier to tolerate the teenaged anticipatory antics.

About this time, Israel, who had relulctantly tagged along, showed up, deciding he was interested after all . . .but, mind you . . .not because he was in any way shape or form supporting Disney, their cast of characters, or (in his mind) their music [insert gag-me reflex here, on his behalf]. Of couse, as the mother, I was fully aware that in his deepest heart of hearts, he was intrigued. But, don't tell him I knew. He has a reputation to protect, and he wouldn't appreciate me spilling the beans!

We finally arrived at Gatekeeper #1. Her job was to check receipts, and approve initial entry:

Then we met Gatekeepr #2. His job was to send the children one direction, and the parent/camera the other direction.

Cami and Aubrey met Raven, exchanged pleasantries (which, of course, included *none* of the aforementioned day-dreamed conversations!), and posed for a pic.

Meanwhile, Gatekeeper #2 has been trying to figure out just how, exactly, Israel fits into this whole family gathering. Finally, he sends Israel, (dvd-less) to the table with Raven, who is finishing her signing of Cami's product.

That's when it happened.

The amazing moment that forever sealed The Day I Met Raven Symone` in the memory of two teenaged girls and one teenaged boy.

Raven did a double take when Israel approached her.

Looking up at him; returning to the dvd; and looking up again quickly, with an expression of awe.

Then, she said it.

"Dude! You're CUTE!"

Words of immortal import.

Evidently (I missed it because I'd been shuffled behind the photographer with the bright pink hair) Israel flashed her his infamous smile at this comment in reply.

To which I am certain Raven thought to herself, "Be still my beating heart!", as I, his mother think, every time I watch that smile wash over him.

I'm not certain that this event challenged Israel to suddenly come forward with his secret enjoyment of all things Disney. But it certainly made for a day worth marking as *much* better than the pool party Momma planned!

The Art Of Waiting

Given the complex landscape of the entertainment industry, our little brood has had opportunity to further strengthen our waiting skills.

I was of the opinion that for the most part, I have instilled within my children the ability to wait patiently for lengths of time in a positive manner, without meltdown.

. . .And then, we moved to LA.

Oh, I suppose we aren't really waiting for great lengths beyond what we were accustomed to waiting before, it just feels different, since the parameters have changed, and since our sphere of activities have been narrowed down to just a couple of channels.

[Ha! As I type that, I realize that statement is particularly humorus! Couple of channels! Television! Entertainment industry! LOL ~ boy, I'm good . . .and that's even BEFORE my first cup of coffee has been properly swilled! LOLOL Egads! Where are my Scriptures on pride? Must. maintain. humility!!! LOLOL

Quick~ somebody note my great sense of wit for me, so that I'm not patting myself on the back. Then, I can enjoy the wit fully, sans the puffalump syndrome. (I must be spending waaaayyyyy too much time alone, and not enough mixing with people, if I'm having to edify mine own self.) Wait. Now I'm on a completely different thought process. Where was I? Oh yeah. Waiting. Egads! Sorry, folks! LOL]

[ahem]

Waiting.

We've discovered different types of waiting here.

Waiting for the audition call.
Waiting for the audition time.
Waiting for the photographer.
Waiting for the headshots.
Waiting for the printer.
Waiting on the freeway.
Waiting curbside because we've arrived too early, because we were unfamiliar with the traffic patterns on said such freeway.
Waiting in line at the audition.
Waiting post audition for the call-back.
Waiting for the next plausible window of time to make phone calls outside the timezone.

Waiting . . .

Waiting . . .

Waiting . . .

The key to waiting is the ability to wait with patience. To entertain oneself in such a manner that the down time is enjoyable, pleasant, and not focused on the minute hand [or red neon digit] of the clock.

To demonstrate this very important skill, my boys (did I mention I have TWO?!?!) will now give their presentation on how to wait well:

There you have it, Choosers. All one needs to wait well is a receipt, a mouth, and a 7.5 month old curiosity.

Easy enough to obtain, right?

Well, it's working for us, in this much overrated cityscape.

Now, if I can only muster the patience to wait, as very soon, we'll have visitors! I'm about to come out of my skin!! Can you guess who's coming to see us?

Dell will be happy.

Not to mention the rest of us!

Tickets: Check.

I am certain that my friend Jules was speaking of a plane ticket to her place as I shared that decisions were on the table the other day . . .and, while I would love that her hunch was correct, alas, I am sorry to say, she is not. (Sorry, Jules.) ")

She was, however, in very close proximity intuition-wise on our forward motion meditations. It is now official.

Dvd's have been received and reviewed.

They'll be leaving on a jet plane. Soon. My GilGuy and the IsraeliBoy.

Ah. The next chapter in the adventure begins.

The Purple Callback Hibachi Grill

We were beside ourselves!

Out of all the participants who'd come with a dream, a hope; of those who had been dismissed at the end of callbacks in the auditorium, Aubrey stood quite likely as the only one who had been allowed into the ballroom that day, the only one who had been given a 'second chance' of sorts, in front of agents.

Out of all the types of requests she could have received from any one of those agents, Aubrey was gifted with the very best kind: a monologue presentation via dvd. Suddenly erased was her failure to make the first cut. Once again, she had the opportunity to present her skill set, her demeanor, her mannerisms. It was as if the drawing board were wiped clean, and Aubrey's number was the only one called.

A miracle? Yes.

A sense of euphoria descended upon us as we finished the last of the paperwork. Not only had the Lord granted Aubrey the desire of her heart, He had also honored our words as her parents. Most importantly, He had brought glory to Himself by asking all of us to have an attitude of gratefulness at every turn.

We now felt like throwing Him the biggest party this side of heaven! As we clamoured into the vehicle, spontanteous prayers of thanksgiving and victory tumbled out of our mouths. Laughter, talking over one another, loud exclamations of joy ~ we were elated. There was only one thing to do: celebrate!

We headed to the nearest Japanese restaurant, and gave Aubrey and Israel their first opportunity to sit down at a hibachi grill:

Everyone wanted in on the excitement! Heck, even Keller received a 'callback' . . .

and so it was, my dear readers, that we ended up at the Purple Cow, wherein was taken a photo such as this:

I rest my case. I am exonerated. Even a Mom has to goof off now and again. :)

After all ~ soon there was work to be done. Monologues to memorize and dvd's to create.

I'll be sharing here, of our journey, as it unfolds before us. We are currently finishing Israel's dvd now. I do hope you'll stay tuned to journey with us.

O give thanks unto the LORD; for he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever. 1 Chronicles 16:34

Giants In The Land

And Moses sent them to spy out the land of Canaan, and said unto them, Get you up this way southward, and go up into the mountain . . . And they returned from searching of the land after forty days . . .And they told him, and said, We came unto the land whither thou sentest us, and surely it floweth with milk and honey; and this is the fruit of it . . . Nevertheless the people be strong that dwell in the land, and the cities are walled, and very great: and moreover we saw the children of Anak there.

And Caleb stilled the people before Moses, and said, Let us go up at once, and possess it; for we are well able to overcome it. Numbers 13

Aubrey shadowed me tight as we began our descent to the ballroom. The moment of reckoning had come. There was no plausible way we as a family could separate. She would have to enter the callback room with us.

The refrain continued. "Aubrey, it's not over until it's over. Give God the glory. Let's see what He might do. Even if we walk away, and your hands are empty, we know we can add skills. Try again. If your really want this, the journey is not over."

Her ability to recover from the emotional disaster was proving to be the hardest battle she'd ever fought this side of losing her Dad. Wasn't it enough that she had 'lost'? Why did she have to go in there . . .and face them?

Face them she must. Her brother had been summoned by the 'big guys' in the industry.

Entering the room, we sought to acclimate ourselves. Already, lines had formed at various tables, and our original plan to go to each agent in alphabetical order would not pan out. We found one gentleman, who was just finishing with a participant.

This man was distinguished. And older gent, with greying hair, modernized fifties-style glasses and a gentle demeanor. He discussed how his particular agency operated, then listed for us the next step requirements for Israel's journey. Would we be willing to take a family vacation to LA, wherein Israel could be placed in front of a larger group of associates; the opportunity to attend a few auditions?

This request, while a known factor previously, was suddenly in our court. Our heads began to swim. Yes. We'd come.

More instructions.
Notes.
More notes.

"Thank you for your time."

We stood up, and once again surveyed the room, the agency lines. The Acme Agency was open.

Aubrey shadowed me again, but after the initial connection, she ever so slightly began to be a part of the conversational process. This time, to her benefit.

As we spoke with the woman before us, she gave her instructions to Israel, and her agency facts and desires. She took our presence as a family in. She noted Aubrey's participant number. "You are siblings?" she queried. "Yes" replied Aubrey. "I had not made that connection." the agent said.

Aubrey quickly found herself the subject of a number of personal questions. "What were you hoping to accomplish this weekend? Acting? Super. I want you to do this for me . . ." and the list began.

Aubrey was dumbfounded.

"But I didn't receive a callback" she stated in protest.

The woman looked at her and smiled. "I'm giving you a callback. Right now."

We looked at each other with squeals in our eyes! The Lord had descended upon the scene and performed a MIRACLE! Aubrey had faced the giants . . .the giants of decision in the department of 'how to respond to disappointment.'

First giant: down.

Now to continue our trek.

Agent after agent met with us. Israel presented himself to each one fresh. Instructions were given. Notes were taken.

Aubrey faded in and out as we did so. One moment elated, the next disappointment sought to take over again. With only one agent left to see, she dismissed herself to the ladies room.

Israel sat before the man and began the now familiar discussion. "Israel, tell me why you are here."

"Well," Israel began. "I originally came because of my sister. Acting is her passion. . ."

The agent interrupted. "You have a sister here? Just a minute. What is her number? Ah ~ yes . . .I had made a few notes. Where is she now?" as his eyes travelled our family unit.

Aubrey had not yet returned. Israel's interaction with the man continued.

Almost finished, Aubrey walked into the room.

"Hello, Aubrey. I'm Mr. Smith. I'd like you to prepare a three minute monologue and put it on DVD for me . . ."

532

We broke for lunch.

The powerful river of people that had burst the door open to get in, now meandered happily in and out of the threshhold with an intensity that depicted a waterfall ahead.

The second round of callbacks was about to begin.

The buzz of the children was delightful. Aubrey smiled and chatted and smiled again. Israel, ever the boy, darted through the glass doors of the building to climb upon the garden walls outside. Gil and I spoke with several families, participants, and staff members of the event.

It was unspoken, the decision to return to the auditorium. The crowd moved almost as one, and took seats with nary a complaint or press. The thoughts of so many, although unspoken, were visibly audible. Who would be tapped on the shoulder to be viewed and considered - placed even, with an agency?

The MC and his assistant took seats upon the platform. Final words of instructions, and edifications were given.

"We will call the name of an agency, and the participant number of all they callback. After we've read the callbacks for each agency, if your number has not been called, you are dismissed. If you've been selected, you will go to the ballroom, where each agent has a table set up. You will speak with each agency that has requested your number."

The River suddenly shifted, preparing to tumble down over the cliff of hope and desire.

It began:

"Acme Agency. You will speak with Jane:
12, 29 101, 321, 541, and 810.

Generation X Agency. You will speak with James:
321, 323, 422, and 532."

Did our ears decieve us? Was that Israel's number? YES! It was!

Yet there was no time to register the excitement, we had to listen carefully. The yet forty agencies had to be heard.

"532."

"532.'

"and 532."

"532"

Over and over again, Israel's number was called.

The emotional torrent was such: We'd thrill quickly for 532, then, with ears strained, listen again, to the next agent numbers, holding our breath, listening for 531 - Aubrey's number. Each round was a cresendo of hope, internal congratulations for Israel, followed by a crash of disappointment for Aubrey, rounded by yet another wave of intese hope that the next set would house her call.

Finally, the last agent was set to call. The microphone carried an intensity as the auditorium sat in utter silence, waiting with bated breath:

"101, 468, 721, and 810."

Hot tears welled in Aubrey's eyes, and I positioned myself next to her so she could bury her head in my shoulder. The heart tear I had experienced the night before had returned, with a searing vengence: Excitement of and for one child, shouldering the disappointment of and for the other.

Again, there was little time to react.

The MC stood and asked all who had recieved call backs to stand. The River forked in a pronounced divide.

Then, meticulously, he began a countdown. "If you've received 2 callbacks, please remain standing. If you've recieved 3 callbacks, please remain standing . . ." and so on until only three people in the room remained upright.

A young woman in her 20's ahead of us, a young gent in his 20's to our side, and a young boy between us: 13 to be exact. The only child among the top three.

"If you've received 10 call backs, please remain standing." Israel sat down.

Nine.

Nine.

Israel had received nine call backs.

The young gent, 10; the young woman, 14.

Number 532 had recieved nine call backs.

The River, now a Tributary moved to report to the ballroom.

Of Catwalks And Callbacks - Part 2

The day dawned fresh - and buzzing. We had adjusted attitudes, refreshed vision, and most importantly, we had prayed. There we were, in a crowd of dreamers and their support systems, waiting for the doors to open.


Today was the day.

Today the agents would view and decide forward motion for many.

To those who received a call back, the opportunity to step into the process of engaging employment in a diverse industry.

To those who did not receive a call back, a place of decision. Would they continue to pursue their dream, or would they allow the dream to die? Would they utilize persistence and find other opportunities, or would they wither and wallow in a sense of defeat? Each would choose his or her own path.

All of that could be pondered later. For now, there was a task at hand. Each individual would present thier ability in being themselves, and revealing their inherit personna.

The agenda was set: Catwalk. Photo Review. Monologue Presentations.

The doors swept open, and a living river of people rushed in as if a dam had burst. Before we knew it, Aubrey and Israel’s numbers had been called.

Catwalk. There she was. Cute. Confident. Unique among all the other girls. A fifteen year old girl who could easily pass for a twelve year old, both in form and innocence.

Israel went next.

The Photo Review. Side by side they walked. Talked. Smiled.

The gentleman with the blue shirt with his back to the camera is from MTV. The woman to his left, Classic Entertainment.

Finally, the closing section:

Monologue Presentations.

The Pit

The disappointment descended upon Aubrey as a torrent of hot, profuse tears and the need to remove herself from everyone's space.

As I'd left Gil and the baby at the hotel to handle this task, I stood alone in the gap between the knowledge of loss and the knowledge of a primary step of success. I felt my heart drop; then split into two halves, each in need of accomplishing action items of expression for each child, respectively.

Another mother stood nearby, and, while not oblivious to the tidal wave that had just crashed into the shoreline of our lives, handled the matter the best way she knew how. She began small talk.

EGADS! [The word that fits so many occassions] My mind raced through the conversation, desparate to separate myself and celebrate with Israel - and rescue my daughter, who now stood some distance away, disheveled.

Finally, as graciously as I could, I stepped away, took Israel by the arm with a victorious punch of the air and eyes open wide and laughing with excitement, all without one spoken word. We both strode large steps to catch up with the beautiful braid that now wandered less without purpose; more with resolute steps that said "get me outta here!"

We did. Silently, the three of us walked the crisp night air three blocks to the vehicle. And then, it happened.

Israel spoke.

There are times when a mother knows she's instilled good in her child because it bubbles to the surface and exposes itself for all the world to see. The young boy at my side revealed the inner workings of a man in the making; a gentleman who walks in humility of mind and heart.

"Aubrey, I'm so sorry this happened. I know your presentation was good, and that you wanted this very much. I wish it were you, instead of me, that had gotten the callback."

I was stunned. Aubrey did not respond. I suddenly knew that I had an even deeper job to do ~ restore Aubrey's vision.

The next few hours were spent ministering to the heart of both children. Israel had taken on a sense of guilt at the lack of Aubrey's ability to respond well to him, and Aubrey had flat out crashed and burned.

Slowly, though, the message crept into her range of thinking: "Aubrey, this event is not over. The door of opportunity has not shut. Tomorrow is your day to shine. Tomorrow, you know not what the Lord might do. Remember, in Facing the Giants, they lost the game. It looked like it was all over. Yet God chose to move on thier behalf because of thier heart attitude. Look up ~ and give your best. Including finding the place in your heart where you can truly express good towards your brother. It's not over until it's over!"

"Israel, this is a gift to you. Embrace it, and recognize that the Lord is working in Aubrey's heart for His good purpose. Allow Him to work with you here, in this place, where promotion has been granted to you. Use the opportunity well. Leave your best on the field."

Somewhere between tear number 4,652 and the opportunity to hop in the jacuzzi, Aubrey began smiling. The Lord had given me wisdom, and a mouth to speak well to her, but more importantly, opened her heart to hear.

Swimsuits donned, the dynamic duo left the room for some hot tub time. Now, it was time for rest. Keller style.

After all, it was only a few hours until daybreak, when once again we'd have to rise, bringing our best to the field of dreams that Aubrey had so earnestly prayed for.

Of Catwalks And Callbacks, Part 1

The day had flown by.

Young and old alike had been educated in an environment free from marketing frills or emotional hype. I found myself pleased that we'd come. After all ~ if this TRULY was Aubrey's desired course of action, she needed to hear and know on the front end that employment in the entertainment/advertising industry was not simply handed to the one who wanted it. Being employable meant an individual would have to hone, and possibly learn new skills.

One such skill involved the catwalk. Aubrey and Israel had been in another room, presenting thier monologue, while DiDiayer gave catwalk instructions in the main auditorium. She stood, and talked, and moved in one graceful brushstroke of an artists' tool. Mesmerized by her freshness, attune to her positive outlook, I anxiously awaited the children's return. I really wanted them to hear her. Her task? Instruction on how to present yourself well from the platform.

Return they did! Just in time to take thier place in line, numerical order, and rehearse.

The catwalk session closed out the day. The room continued to buzz with an ever-increasing excitement. All monologues had been presented, and all that remained was the wait to discover who made the callback sheet.

We sauntered to a local Mexican restaurant for the two hour wait. Both Aubrey and Israel were pleased with thier original presentation. Little did we know that our exhortation from earlier in the day would be pivotal in the entirety of the weekend.

"Remember Facing The Giants? Leave nothing on the field. Do your personal best. If we win, we give God the glory. If we lose, we give God the glory."

The place of tension between excitement of and for one child and the disappointment of and for another is so real and palpable; such a tightwire to walk . . .and we found ourselves right smack in the middle of it as we returned to find the results.

Israel's monologue presentation had earned him the priviledge of presenting on the platform the next day, in front of a host of agents.

On the list, Aubrey's number was no where to be found . . .

The Event Begins

In so many ways, it was a typical experience. The anticipation. The crowds. The waiting in line:


[ We had requested alot of Keller St. John: At three months, we'd asked him to live in a sling for eight plus hours a day. When he would awake from a nap, I'd remove him from his little hideaway, and give him some stretch time. This worked out well, and we were all very impressed that he handled the entire weekend without nary a complaint.]

Yet, for all the familiar, all the waiting, the knowledge that this event had forward motion potential of unprecedented proportions (or not) set a buzz in the room. Thankfully, one of the first speakers broke the ice with none other than a great sense of humor!

Chambers Stevens set the pace for the educational portion of the weekend. As a seasoned actor and model himself, with a bend toward working well with tweens and teens, he had the audience in stiches ~ and Israel up on stage:

Without alot of fanfare, Israel found himself in front of 1200 folks ~ and the subject of Chambers next round of jokes. While he was never cruel, Chambers' coaching only served to have everyone laughing at the obvious 'mistakes' that one might make in front of a microphone . . .and set out to polish the rookies, one by one.

Israel fared pretty well. Anunciation was his only area in need of polishing. Chambers corrected in such a way that one did not feel corrected at all . . .

Of course, a bit of blushing DID circle those on the platform. And a wee bit of chagrin once they returned to thier seats.

Unbeknownst to Israel, nor Aubrey, Chambers would be one of the judges in the first round of monologue presentations that would occur that afternoon. Those who made it through the first round, proceeded to the second day's presentation, in front of the entire crowd that had assembled . . .and on the platform in front of the agents, the reason why all had come.

Who would make it? The nervousness and excitement was so profound it was palpable . . .