I was a little melancholy as I walked into the lobby. I had about half an hour to rest before returning to the arena for the last session of the Chicago conference. I

was recognized by a group of students and a pastor from Nebraska. They had driven to Chicago to see the conference for the third time, they had also attended the confer-ences in Denver and Lincoln earlier that year. The pastor had attended for six years. There was a moment, while he was talking about some of his favorite sketches over the years that I was able to see the reflection of what I had been working on all these years. It was as if there had been some exchange between us in that moment, like he was saying, “We are what you paid for.” Then in that moment Jesus asked me a question (like he always does), he asked me if it was worth it. I thought about it for a moment because I wanted my answer to be honest not merely correct.

to rnthe torn curtain newsletter.llo friends!Well, the big news is that on Monday, September 17th Torn Curtain had it’s official first meeting! This was such a big deal because it was the last step we needed to take before filing for our federal tax-exempt

please pray

I remember the first Saturday morning when I didnʼt walk over to the cozy car and instead walked with a couple of friends over to the noisy, uncomfortable yellow bus. I was frightened of making my coach mad. I was scared of not being accepted into the bus. I did get a seat on the bus. I donʼt know how long a seat was held for me on the suburban. I never checked. I somehow still was a “favored” student in the theatre department. I knew that if I would make an amend of sorts that I would be let back in fully. But, now I could use my power for good and not evil. It might sound silly. But, it was true for me. I could use my powers to include instead of exclude. Itʼs scary how easy it is to accept systems like this. Where power is handed over to you for no apparent reason and where itʼs guarded for you, by you. It makes my tummy hurt now, 13 years later, to know that I sat in those seats for 3 years. I learned how important it is to look at yourself and others around you when you are given a seat on the suburban. Iʼm not saying that itʼs bad all the time. It might be a really good thing. For a season. Iʼm just saying to look over at the yellow bus. Yes, I know the seats are green and plastic and itʼs much harder to put your make-up on with all those bumps but there is good too. Itʼs good to know that whether plastic or cloth, you can sit anywhere. Itʼs good to give your seat up to someone else. Itʼs good to hold power loosely and lightly. Itʼs good, simply, to share seats. 

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Was it worth it? Iʼm not sure... There was a lot of me that I spent there on that stage over the last nine years. Not just my talent, I spent my heart, I spent my mind, I spent my body, I spent my wife, I spent my children. I spent my money, I spent my dreams. I spent all of these things and I will not get them back. Was it worth it? I cried and screamed and almost suffocated with laughter. I got sick, I got healed, I got confused and scared (tur-bulence never got easier for me.) Iʼve left a lot of places and came back to a few. I donʼt know if I really understand what I spent but this is what I got: I know that people remember the sto-ries that I wrote. I know that my work was seen by over five hundred thousand people over the last nine years and many of those people responded in some way to Godʼs love for them for the first time. I know of at least six teenagers that decided not to end their life. I know that isolated and hurting kids spoke up about their abuse, addiction and loneliness. Lastly, I know got a handful of true friends that have filled my heart and shaped me into the person I am. After Chicago I performed once again on stage at Dare 2 Share in St. Louis and then hung up my costume for the last time. Even though Iʼm planning on writing and directing for a new team, my time of traveling has come to a close. So, now that itʼs over I can look back at him and honestly say... “Yes.”

4 or 5 am. It was always dark and usually cold. There was a warm glow of yellow headlights huddled together in the parking lot. Slowly, kids began crawling out of cars with backpacks and pillows and made their way to the yellow bus or the suburban. And this is how weekends began for me during the 2nd semester of every year of high school. Apple juice

and a cinnamon, brown sugar Pop-Tart in hand I boarded the suburban and headed to Forensic meets. I didnʼt learn about how to study those who are deceased. I was competing in theatre and speech.

SeatsBy Christa

The most important detail is that I boarded the suburban. Not the yellow bus. The bus was not the desirable place to be. Cold. Bumpy. Plastic Seats. The suburban offered 6 seats of exclusivity. Warm. Soft. Elite. Our forensic coach drove the suburban. And 6 lucky people could walk up and itʼs doors were opened and 6 people were welcome in. But, if you were not one of the 6 then only the windows were rolled down and you were told that the car was “full” and you were directed to the bus. This happened even if the seats were not full. I was offered a seat on the suburban without even trying... And I took it... And I liked it.I liked that other people didnʼt get the seats. I liked that I was “special” and “important” and maybe even “better than”. I felt bad and awkward every time someone was ushered into the special car and someone was turned away. But, not bad enough to change. I liked it enough to sit here for 3 years. My senior year found me a bit more aware and thoughtful. And through this awareness of how terrible it really was that my coach and teacher was actually acting like one of us high school kids, who had intentionally created a system of favored students I began to change. And one of the biggest things I could do was to leave my seat on the suburban. 

For our staminato navigate life with two kids.

For our decisions on the future of

TCA in 2010For Christa’s upcoming performance in CCU’s

Steel Magnolias.