The Cathedral

I’ve got my earbuds in again tonight, and I’m listening to a Spotify station called “Catholic Hymns/Chants.” I keep this one around because when I’m in the right mood, the deep calls of the organ gorgeously mixed with the angelic voices hits just right. It brings me back to sitting in that hard wooden pew, as the sweet heavy scent of incense wafts over my nine year old head.

Some Sunday mornings I’d kneel on the padded kneelers, fold my hands and look up at the incense swirling above me. It would mix with the dust and the light shooting through the stained glass. In those moments I felt like it was just me, God and the angels. When it was time to receive communion I automatically stood with the rest of the parishoners in the pew. I didn’t understand what it actually meant to receive it yet, but something about it was holy. And quietly comforting.

It felt like I existed on a different plane in those moments. I can still taste the crunchiness of the communion host on my tongue and how it melted exactly 6 seconds after putting it in my mouth. I would, with folded hands, follow the person in front of me as I walked slowly back to the pew.

I didn’t know God too personally back then but I felt His big presence over me in those moments. I felt almost snuggled in a huge hand, although I didn’t know it was His at the time.

Sometimes these Catholic hymns hit me a different way. After I turned eleven some things changed in my life and we didn’t attend that church very often anymore. Several years later I returned in search of answers and comfort, desperately needing some semblance of a fuzzy feeling. I smelled the same incense, walked the same slow walk up to get communion, and kneeled and sat in the same way as before.  I was looking for any kind of salve to pour on my scratched up teenage heart.

I didn’t find it.

It wasn’t till later that I really met God in His fullness, in many tiny moments realizing my standing in the reality of his actual hugeness and grace. Since then it’s been a process of learning even more about Him (and myself), but His salve has never dried up and my heart has been snuggled into his big arms even deeper than I could have imagined as that nine year old in the pew.

I don’t attend a Catholic church anymore, but I truly believe my little heart’s first experience with God was in that pew.

And if you don’t mind, I’d like to tell nine year old me something (I’m ok with it if you want to eavesdrop):

Little one, keep looking up.

Little one, what you are about to experience is not your fault.

Little one, keep learning about that hugeness that is God, but don’t let that hugeness be a barrier between you and Him.  Let Him be your cathedral when you feel lost in the confusing wilderness.

Do Unto Others

I am a selfish person. I know this, and it has become all the more clear in the last five years due to being in charge of a very cute yet ever-present little girl in my life.

After she was born, it literally took less than a couple days to realize my natural inclination towards self focus. Yes, my amazing daughter literally owns my heart and I would step in front of a train for her. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her safe and happy. 

Regardless of that, I admit that all I want to do these days (understandably) is to sit and read, maybe with a glass of wine. I want to go on a beach vacation by myself. I want to go on a totally unnecessary shopping spree (ok,so that was also the case before the pandemic, but you get my drift). Mostly I super don't want to be called into her room 458 times a night as she launches stall tactic after stall tactic to avoid going to sleep. I just want to sit on the couch, eat snacks, and watch my grown up shows. Seriously little girl, go. to. sleep.

"The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'" -Jesus (Matthew 25:40)

Let me be clear: I don't think there's anything wrong with taking that vacation, getting away from your children for a bit, or even going on a shopping spree. My point is I don't think any of us (even the most loving) want to choose others over ourselves very often. That is something that has to come from a supernatural source. Just look at the two year old that is told to not hit his sister, and immediately after being told, looks straight at mom/dad and does it again unashamed. It's not a mystery why we have to teach small kids how to share, why human trafficking exists, why most women don't feel safe walking alone at night, and why even in the face of tragedy people choose themselves over others... and on and on and on.

We are all selfish. This is a spiritual problem. So why would God ask us to be selfless if it's not how we're wired?! And on top of that, why would He say it's like we're doing these selfless things for Him?

God has fashioned our little apartment into a classroom on this particular subject, especially since March. I'm with my daughter all the time, which a lot of the time I love. We play, cuddle, pretend, do legos, and make each other laugh. However due to the fact school isn't happening and childcare is more complicated, every day I face the battle between boundaries for my self care, and reaching deep down to pray for a little more patience to answer the 785th call from my only child daughter to "watch this" or to deal with yet another meltdown. For most of us there are no good recipes for balance these days-- thanks, COVID.

I'm learning that I need to make choices that will make me more aware and available to her. As an introvert this will always include alone time, so I can fill up emotionally and spiritually in order to pour out to her and others.  I'm a work in progress. But when He sees me choosing her (which often means choosing myself first), I think His heart swells with happiness (ie, "you did it for me") because she is precious to Him. She is part of His family too and how she feels affects His heart.

Everyone's situation and needs are different and we are all presented with situations in which we are asked to put others before ourselves, especially nowadays. But we are all capable, mostly because our capabilities don't depend on us. I'm an empty jar, waiting to be reminded of the strength available to me to pour out on others, but first I have to stop and be quiet to receive it.

"Going There" (warning: spoilers for Brigadoon!)

It's not the first time I've been asked to portray a moment of grief onstage.

I'm honored to be performing the role of Maggie Anderson in Brigadoon at the moment with Performance Now Theatre Company, and we only have one more weekend left.

Seems time has gone quickly in this process and it's been a unique one. It has demanded much of my energy and time but I'd do it all again gladly. Co-choreographing this production along with being part of the talented cast has molded me incredibly much as a dancer and choreographer.

If you ask me what the most draining part of the whole experience has been however, I'd have to choose the funeral scene in Act 2. 

*SPOILER ALERT!* 

Maggie is asked to deal with one of the most traumatic things in the world-- a death of someone she has given her entire heart to. 

Maggie and Harry (played by Will Treat) (photo by RDG Photography)

She (at least the character I have created for this production) is the "funeral dancer" of the town and therefore must dance through her shock, grief, anger, and confusion.

Maggie dances at Harry's funeral (photo by RDG Photography)

Maggie dances at Harry's funeral (photo by RDG Photography)

This friend and imagined relationship she is forced to grieve is linked heavily to dancing in general (she and Harry grew up dancing together, and are close friends on top of her romantic feelings). She really believed (prior to his death of course) they would someday build a life together, get married, have children.

Harry (Will Treat) and Maggie dance in the town square of Brigadoon (photo by RDG Photography)

The process of choreographing the funeral dance has been long (it is still morphing in tiny ways as I perform it depending on how I sense Maggie's process at each moment). It has demanded that I vividly remember grief/love lost experiences from my own teenage experience and actually "go there" in rehearsal and performance.

As an actress I have felt my heart be sculpted by Maggie's emotional roller coaster. To love someone desperately and believe you will eventually be together can be exhausting and this is what I am hoping to convey as this young woman.

There is a part of Maggie in each of us. Every one of us has loved desperately and hoped wildly for something. Something or even someone that perhaps does not return all the feelings we harbor.

I love theatre. I love "going there" with my characters and living another life although it isn't always a happy or fun scene. I consider it a privilege to attempt to touch and move an audience, to help them feel something. 

If you'd like to catch the show in it's last weekend, here's the ticketing info:

Brigadoon at Lakewood Cultural Center with Performance Now Theatre Company ticketing link--

https://lakewood.showare.com/?search=brigadoon

My Love Letter to You.

Every good love story has it's peaks and valleys, but some of the best ones have highs up in the wispy white clouds, and lows in the dungeons of darkness.

My love story began almost exactly one year and ten months ago when my life was turned upside down with a flippant use of a pregnancy test (the one time in my life I was convinced it was negative). That surprise of reading "Pregnant:2-3 (weeks)" was one of God's greatest moments in my life, I for once was calm and just doing the test at Casey's request. (For the full story, go here: http://eslingers.blogspot.com/2014/03/you-said-theres-what.html).

Those ten months showed me what sacrifice means more than any other experience of my life. I temporarily gave up 90% of what made profesional me, me-- career, aspirations, etc especially in dance (shout out to Ken and Kelly who let me be part of a musical by choreographing a tiny part of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers...). I am forever grateful for you, my friends and family, that supported me through this incredibly trying transition. My daughter ended up being the biggest gift I could ever ask for-- and I would give it up all again (even forever) for her, but that time as a pregnant "dancer" was understandably rocky.

Then the Peanut arrived and Casey's and my heart broke wide open, expanded to be ready for the greatest love we'd ever felt. It is like your worst crush, but amplified times one thousand. You can't wait to see them when apart, and your heart beats a little faster because of them.

You who were and are there for me have become like diamonds-- incredibly valuable and prized. You brought me food, teeny tiny clothes, love and support. You sat and listened while I talked and talked about how different things were. You nodded. You hugged me. You loved me. You loved my precious Peanut.

I cannot tell you how much you mean to me. You, who were and are there for me in my most formative and trying hours. I am currently doing well in recovery for post partum depression-- yes, I said it-- and every week climbing even higher with the help of God's most unselfish Love, Casey's unending support, counseling and regular exercise/dance in my life. I learned that there is a surprisingly high percentage of women who go through this same experience, and yet it is rarely talked about. It needs to be. It is treatable and there is help. Please contact me if you are suffering, I would love to support you.

It is Peanut's first birthday soon. It is also going to be the anniversary of me becoming a Mom, and Casey's becoming a Dad for the first time. We made it. I made it. I really didn't think I would at first. Some of the lows were so low I didn't think I'd ever climb out.

But it turns out I didn't have to climb out by myself. Your love and companionship helped celebrate with me regarding my most incredible gift. In a few days it will be the anniversary of the most blessed moment of my life, when Peanut was born. Also a year since my heart became something completely other and will never be the same. I would never go back to the old heart. Ever. This last year has formed me into the person I was always meant to be, and I don't even want to think about what my life would be like without my Peanut.

So, this is my love letter to you. You who held my hand and heart through this last year. Your sacrifice of love helped me stay afloat and you are a gift from Heaven. You who sat with me in the dark and celebrated with me in the joyful light are my diamonds-- more precious to me than you will ever know.

Dramatic Changes in the Dramatic

When I deeply ponder the dramatic changes to my life (pre-Peanut vs Peanut on the outside) that have happened in just a year and a half, I am floored. I was rarely at home, danced/taught all day long. I was involved in at least one show at all times (not rarely, two).
Now I am at home a good part of the time-- the kiss of death to previous Gina. I'm 24/7 taking care of a mini human being. I am even more busy if that is possible-- yet a different kind of busy. It has been a huge challenge to what I thought I could "handle" as a human being. I was the typical do-a-million-different-things-and-errands-a-day type person and thought that's what I needed to stay sane. But I didn't.
It's amazing what you find out about yourself (and how your previous beliefs are challenged and destroyed) when you go through such a fundamental change. Luckily I am able to continue dancing/performing now and will never stop as long as I'm able.
My point? I find that I really appreciate the slower pace, as well as the artistic/soul time on a whole new level. It's a deeper and richer experience. It was meant to be. It's part of my story.
Before Peanut, I would sometimes stress/worry/even cry myself sick about the quality of my performances and dancing. It was not always healthy. Now, I feel the anchor of a love that transcends anything I've ever felt for another human being. She is my greatest love, and she adds to my life in a way that grounds me. It's strange but her presence and relationship calm and relax me more than anything I've ever experienced.

Guys and Dolls with Performance Now Theatre Company (photo by RDG Photography)

The unexpected dropping of the majority of the stage anxiety has made me an infinitely better performer. More confident and more able to be in the moment. At least, that's what it feels like to me-- you can let me know if you agree next time you see me onstage, wink wink.

Peanut at 8 months.

Thanks Peanut. And thanks God for the precious gift of this little life next to mine.

Say It To Her Face

Facebook has become a prime place for rudeness.
Maybe it's always been that way. But more and more I notice just plain old jerkery as I scroll through my newsfeed. I notice it in comments when friends share their hard days, I notice it in political posts, I notice it in plain old boring status updates.
What I want to say is, would you say that to this person's face? What if you ran into them in Starbucks and you saw how tired and haggard they looked? Then they shared about how they stayed up all night cleaning up after two young children vomiting and crying. Would you say flippantly, "It's amazing to me how you moms flip out when your husbands are gone for a week. Just be glad you aren't a single mother." That was an actual comment I read off my friend's page a while ago.
Most times these people are not ones you are close to in actual life. They are just your "Facebook friends" who are privy to your pictures, and life events that you share with your Facebook community.
Why do we feel the need to lash out (even passive aggressively)? If we spent more time connecting with people face to face and having real, vulnerable conversations with people we trust maybe we wouldn't feel the need to let off steam in a place where there are seemingly fewer consequences. In actuality the ripples felt from the rocks of your words are very real.
Let's not go back to elementary school, let's be adults. Let's be kind. Let's think through what our words might make another person feel. If you wouldn't say it to their face... Don't say it to them on Facebook.

Love Pains

Have you ever loved someone so much it physically hurt?
I'm not talking about those teeny-bopper crushes you had as a preteen. I'm not even talking about what some jerk guy or girl that dumped you by text does to your heart, and being in the middle of those tough post break up moments.
I'm talking about the moments your love puts their arms around you, or laughs with you, or just sits there smiling at you and being the most amazing human you've ever set your eyes on.

I'm talking about the moment you realize how huge your feelings and love are for this person, and the thought of any harm coming to them causes you the most pain and fear you've ever felt in all your moments on earth so far. I'm talking about seeing them after being separated for a while and it literally feels like your heart is going to explode with an ache that can only be described as a love pain.
It feels like your heart is going to physically break because it is so full of love.

6.5 months old

It's an enchanting love pain that, incredibly, continues to grow as the days tick by. The material of the heart, intentionally designed to be of the most elastic quality in the universe, stretches to what feels like it's very end every day. It's a miracle it doesn't break. But then again, this miracle is nothing compared to the little human sitting before me every day.