We went to see our daughter Hope last weekend. She was in a musical. “Jane Eyre” – the musical.
It was much better than I anticipated. Not because of a concern about the performers, mind you. But a musical about Jane Eyre?
For all the wonderfulness of the production, however, we had terrible seats. We couldn’t see Hope at all.
No matter how we strained our eyes, leaned from side to side, we couldn’t even get a glimpse of Hope.
So we sat back to watch the show.
One scene had Jane and Mr Rochester, in separate rooms, in separate beds. They walked on stage, carrying candles.
There was another scene in which Rochester’s daughter came skipping in from the back of the auditorium, out of the darkness on the the stage.
But we never saw Hope.
It could have been a disappointing night. Except that we knew something that no one else knew.
Hope was working backstage.
She was handling props stage right. When the blanket was quickly at hand for Young Jane and Helen, Hope had it ready. When Jane and Rochester needed candles to light their paths to their rooms, Hope lit the candles. When Adele came from the back of the room, Hope opened the door.
When things on stage look darkest or smoothest or impossible, the solution is often not visible.
Hope is often working off stage, lighting candles, opening doors.