Iceberg, right ahead!

It was ten days before the performances.
Ten.
And Bruce Ismay had never been to rehearsal. Lady Astor dropped out without telling anyone.
The proposal had come back lacking the promise of a budget or compensation to cover the costs of the show.
The prop list had three things checked off.
A few people were costumed - some had no costumes at all.
They had just gotten off-book, rehearsing in the historical hotel a few buildings down from the theater.
There was no set.
No one to run lights. No fog machine ready.
The music was picked and far from perfect - missing a piece.
The projector for the backdrops put on hold while Lindsey tried to set up a meeting with Steve to talk about where to get the money to buy the supplies needed to make lifeboats and life vests and buy dry ice. Even with a rare, good night sleep, the production drove her to her knees.
"Help Lord. I want to believe you're coming through for all this - I do - but it's just SOOO hard. I don't know how much I need to do and how much I need to wait for you to do."
Trust wasn't easy. Letting go of what little control she had wasn't easy.
But then the words came, "Lindsey, when have I ever let you down?"
Flashes of hurt - old wounds that she used to wonder why He let happen - flashed through her head in defense. But were they really hurts?
He had freed her from a church where she lived under doubt, confusion and condemnation.
From friends who didn't understand her calling the way she did, and may have kept her from discovering it all in the name of "following God's will."
Old wounds suddenly looked like God stepping in and breaking chains so she was free to follow him away from her own preconceived ideas of what His will for her life was.
"No. You haven't."
It was kind of crazy to wonder where her lack of faith came through.
If God could stop the sun and command the waters and bring down entire nations in one day - he could probably wrangle up an actor or two and a lifeboat and everything the play needed - with the funds to pay for it - in five days.
But it was still so hard to trust and relax and it led her into desperate prayers about sin and faith and trust. Even while the thoughts crept in that she should be working on music and finding an actress and making phone calls about various details. Perhaps putting an add on Creig's List for a boat.
After all, the production couldn't wait while she learned enough faith and to understand which ideas were from God and which were for her own, desperate mind.
But a string of promises followed bringing both comfort and humiliation, "I will never leave you or forsake you. I will supply all your needs according to My riches. I will hold you in my right hand, lest you dash your foot against a stone. I will shelter You in my wings. I will never fail. And I never lie."
So here she was.... sitting an hour later, after counting the days on the calendar and coaching her breathing back to normal. Was this the way she had hoped to see God work through the lives of the actors? To show Himself strong? Dare she explain at rehearsal what was going on - that they had no budget - with one of the people who had promised to "see what they could do" sitting right there?
Did she tell them that God had promised to provide and let them all see what he had in store?
Was that what he was planning through all of this?

Calm Waters

The weekend provided a much-needed mental and spiritual break for Lindsey. Despite prayers being sent up about the lack of actors, she learned to trust God that he wasn't finished casting yet. Saturday, a father and son accepted the roles of Thomas Andrews and Richard Williams. They left two requests out for William Murdoch and Bruce Ismay, both of whom had a first read-through rehearsal on Monday - and both of whom had not responded by Monday morning. But the show would go on whether or not they were at the line rehearsals.

Monday was a challenge.

Despite a good Sunday where she performed at Church (and was asked why she wasn't on Broadway or somewhere) and where God reminded her of a future - and much larger project - Flames. Could it be that "Titanic" and trusting God was preparation for working on the film God had given her to write?

She thought so.

Reassurances came in. The man wasn't a bad actor as he had been accused of - He was dyslexic but a very good memorize. Two of the parts were filled. A thirteen year old boy wrote asking for a part. Word was getting out all over about Titanic.

Saturday night, Lindsey began writing the backdrops for each scene, along with a list of music used, props needed, and other notes that normally were done by a stage manager.

Marie wrote that she was willing to help with Irish Step Dancing - she couldn't dance but she had the knowledge. Rob arranged to meet Lindsey Monday night after rehearsal for the backdrops and music details.

In the meantime, researching for her blog, Lindsey stumbled on a website which she was looking through for ways to help people - and products to buy that could help support former slaves and not encourage slave-trading. She stumbled on a gift of freedom - more expensive than she was planning on spending on one purchase for a long time.

It wasn't a Christian site.

It wasn't a wise idea to dole out that money.

But it was as though God said, "That. Do that. Someone needs you today. Right now."

After a few minutes debate to make sure she'd heard correctly - and convince herself that parting with that money wasn't going to hurt her, Lindsey donated toward freeing an indentured girl. Amazed that with just a bit of money, a few clicks of a mouse, a girl could return to her family and attend school for six months instead of working to pay off her family's debt.

Ten minutes afterwards, her Grandfather walked in and handed her the exact amount of money that she had spent in the gift of freedom.

She'd also been wanting a big book with CD's on accents. It had over 100 and how to learn them. But it was usually between 40 and 60 dollars.

Saturday, she found it for 16.00 and ordered it for rehearsals.

So that left purchasing the music for the show and the memorabilia for the display board.

For all the reading she had done on the Titanic, she found (apparently true) something she had never read before. There was a film screening on the Titanic at the time of the collision. It was about people surviving a sinking ship hit by a rogue wave.

So popular was it, that another showing started after midnight while people should have been loading lifeboats.

Monday, she was woken after a long night of exhausted sleep, by someone scrubbing the outside of her door. It was not terribly pleasant or comfortable to try and dress not knowing which worker was outside or if that door would open at any moment. By the time it did, she was cleaning the room and came face to face with a young, new worker who was apparently told that she had gone on the cruise with her grandparents.

Awkward first meeting over, she came out only to discover her brother was gone and there were three men working in the house. Before she could fully wake up the doors were yet again stuck open and banned from being shut. No bathroom door. No bedroom door.

Not a good way to start an already grumpy morning.

She decided she was glad she lived in a house without servants.

Another day.

Another rehearsal.

Another chance to learn to trust God.

And the show went on.

The Calm after the Storm

She'd talked to Val. She'd taken a shower. She'd calmed down to the lyrics of "Never Once did we Ever Walk Alone." Then "Hope, Now." Then she asked God for a specific song from him.

The one that came up was "By Your Side."

So she lay in bed listening to the words - all of which were true.

Why are you striving these days? Why are you trying to earn grace? Why are you crying? Let me lift up your face. Just don't turn away.

And she was indeed crying. Tired. Feeling abandoned.

Why are you looking for love? Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough? To where will you go child? Tell me where will you run? To where will you run?

She had no where to run. But she had no reason to run either. God knew what she needed. He knew the pressure she felt. He knew how this production would turn out.

And I'll be by your side wherever you fall. In the dead of night, whenever you call. And please don't fight these hands that are holding you.
My hands are holding you.

Laying in the dark, in the early hours of the morning, she did call on Him. Maybe she was fretting too much. He just wasn't finished casting yet.

Cause I, I love you. I want you to know that I love you. I'll never let you go.

And so she fell asleep, and despite stressfull dreams about being demanded to perform on the piano at a church, she woke in better spirits. Reading the first and second chapter of "Abba's Child" she was confronted yet again with her "people pleasing" ways.

She didn't have an unruly, rude group of lousy actors.

She had an excited group of people who were enthusiastic about the production and liked each other. She had people donating time, energy and dwindling gas tanks because they had the same passion that she did. The desire to create a story. To see words on a page come alive, take personalities and touch lives. To have a good time building a theater family.

What she liked about many of these people is their openness with each other. They struggled. They had flaws. But she had seen during former plays how they rallied behind each other. They rooted for each other. Sure. The curtains might fall down. The acting might not be blockbuster quality. The set might look a bit goofy. There were wigs slipping and costume malfunctions - but there was a family feeling. People who didn't have a lot of support in their outside lives came to the theater and got several hugs from people they might have only met a few weeks before. Someone who was craving a cigarette and trying to fight it was congratulated for the fight. People who were nervous about learning all their lines, or dancing on the wrong foot were supported and encouraged to hang in there.

That was what theater was really about. When actors had a good time, the audience had a good time. If she could keep that in mind, and let God take care of the details, this play was going to be "A Night to Remember" and six weeks that she would never forget.

Shipwrecked.

Thirty pages took a long time to print.

Lindsey got to rehearsal at 7:00 instead of 6:30 with a schedule and a wrong date. Pat caught it and the date was fixed. Excited actors milled about. Lindsey got scripts out and had them write their names on the top.

She didn't have a sign-in sheet.

She didn't have a waver for them to sign.

Pat went over the rules of the theater. Then the reading began.

Three men short and one boy short.

A few mispronounced words.

A boy with the fewest lines took the longest to read them.

"My brother died."

Brother: "You wish!"

Everyone laughed. But it went worst from there. Back on track, they got through the script, Lindsey playing several parts.

Afterwards they came with the conflicts they could have told her before had the theater told her which dates she could hold rehearsal. "Do the best you can," was the answer they got.

Then the man with the deep radio voice, gave the script back and said he couldn't do the show.

She couldn't replace them. At this point, she couldn't cut them either.

Pat lowered the lights and people shuffled outside the door, standing in a happy cluster.

"They can't cut up like that."

"They can't read."

"That man can't act and he has a big part!"

"He quit because the kids were acting up."

Those words were mispronounced.

Lindsey assured her that she would be addressing all of these factors at the line rehearsal.

Then had to shoo the actors away so she could leave and go to rehearsal (theater rules that no one was left on the premises.)

Marie, blessed woman, told Lindsey the script was done so well. Which helped her worry that it came across as overly-sappy or overly-factual.

Two hours later, she still felt like throwing up. She still needed men.

She needed her little boy.

And a stage manager.

And if she was honest, she was both worried sick she'd understood wrong, or done something wrong. Where was God? Was he coming through? She was failing at the very first rehearsal.

She shouldn't have added parts. She should have taken them out. But if she didn't add them, then the two culprits would have even larger roles to struggle to read and work their way through.

Well. She would learn. She'd somehow figure out how to come across as confident, kind and maintaining order. This would be easier at the Palace theater - while not nearly as nice, it came with less regulations and worried owners.

God help her.

She felt like everything was already falling apart.

Saving the Scripts

Lindsey crashed at 3:00 AM, waking around 9:30. All she had to do today was write in Joseph Laroache and expand on one of Mary and Daniel Marvin's scene. Then make the rehearsal schedule, continuing her work that she did while sitting at Sarah's house and trying to half-watch Hugo - another story about a man who loved to create stories.

The movie wasn't terribly encouraging, but it was nice to know there were other people in the world who had the passion of creating stories out of an idea and a lot of imagination.

After she finished the schedule, she would take everything down to the UPS store to make the copies for the read-through tonight.

It took another read through the script before she felt it "done enough." There were still stories she'd like to expand. Scenes she'd rewritten that she wasn't sure of. But it was time to move on and she spent the next few hours working out the schedule. Then went to print the master copy of her creation from the computer.

And of course, when computers came in, the troubles did too. The ink was low. The other ink was low. She had a mad dash to wal-mart for ink where she waited in line for a self-checkout. Then back home where she printed the script, checking facebook for messages to see if she had the last few actors in place. Then she had to call Papa John who didn't know he had a part written in and Keith whom she'd pushed to the backburner while waiting to hear which men she had to do what.

The computer began pulling multiple papers. But finally the script lay waiting, the phone calls were made. And she had an hour to get to UPS store and run off thirty copies. Then get to rehearsal and afterward she was traveling with Justin to the church to go over a program there for Sunday morning.

Her first time in front of her new church.

She really should hurry and finish memorizing the poem.

Setting Sail!

A day of names. Waiting to hear from men before she could do the final casting. Then calling, getting either excited actors or answering machines. Two men fell through and created a last-minute shuffle. Then another boy. Lindsey sent out messages and phone calls to three men she'd either never met or barely knew. Some parts needed to be tweaked. Others needed to be added. She ended the night, still lacking a child for Washington's part.

But people began to shuffle into places.

7:00 the next day, she had to have the scripts finished and printed and work out the rehearsal schedule. It was not an easy task and she settled in bed at 10:17 to begin the adding of the parts, the tweaking of lines. Tomorrow (hopefully after a few hours of sleep) she would have the day to confirm the rest of the men in the cast. Then work out the schedule.

Her facebook began to show comments by her cast, telling their part, asking about others. It was fun to see their excitement even as she watched thinking, "I'm doing this. I'M doing this."

All of it.

Being an actress was one thing.

Writing the script, directing, gathering and creating props, over-seeing costumes, blocking the script, finding a crew to run lights, sound. Gathering songs and special effects.

God had promised to provide all her needs and today was the beginning of a long journey of faith, that he would either provide her with what she needed or who she needed to what she needed.

It was shameful to see how she could bubble over about how God answered her prayer and provided so many things one moment - then reminding him that he'd forgotten to send out the kid and she wasn't sure about this casting arrangement and was she really supposed to be playing the French girl that she hadn't expected to play at all?

Shouldn't she just be off the stage as a silent character who could walk around and get her stuff done?

She didn't know. But it was going to be a long night and feeling slightly dizzy, she glanced at the clock.

10:22 PM.

Time to go to work.

All Aboard!

"Some other Hand than mine was on that helm during the night." - Captain Arthur Rostron, reflecting on his safe passage among the icebergs to the lifeboats.

Lindsey loaded the car for the second night of auditions, feeling more excited than nervous, though she'd had trouble concentrating for the entire day. Walking into the theater, found a vastly different scene than the day before. Actors were waiting. A whole group of the Palace Players from Willy Wonka showed up. A few kids from the highschool. A few from middle school.

As auditions got underway Josh carried himself into the theater, and Lindsey went to meet him, excited he'd come. He had been up since 7 AM the morning before and here and even going on 36 hours without sleep, he read well. And first, since he needed to go home.

The group read and visited, read and hung out until the tornado warnings sent everyone home, twenty minutes before auditions officially ended.

Then the arranging began. Bumping names from place to place, fitting people together. Considering how the script could be tweaked.

She had more women than parts - and fell short of two young men. But a phone call offered two names - one of whom she'd been hoping to cast anyway but was afraid of conflicts.

The next morning after laying awake watching lightening in the sky, she smiled. God had brought out people. Enough that she would not be cutting characters - she might be adding them. Two men had yet to get back to tell if they could do the parts. She still lacked a young boy but every time she picked up the phone to make some calls, God said "wait." So she did, but she couldn't help reminding him how easy it would be for him to move Tex's date.

There were problems. Others who wanted to audition but hadn't gotten the call about the updates. Unsure of how to fairly work things out, she considered the options. Should she put them in as extras and background? Write some more small parts?

She wasn't sure.

A Meeting in the Parkinglot

She felt like a kid at Christmas. With company still sleeping in her room and too tired to drive to her sister's empty house, Lindsey chatted with Val while blowing up the air matteress in the laundry room. She'd slept in many odd places in her life but this would be her first time in a laundry room. Laying beside the blue lights of the washer, she rolled from side to side. If some of the men from Willy Wonka did come out, who could they play? She arranged people in her head, plugging in people here and there.

When she woke and shifted, the thoughts were back.

How much rewriting would the script require? What if she couldn't get enough boys or young people? What if too many of one type of people came out and she had to tell some no - even while having to work to replace others.

Just when she'd dropped off into a rare moment, her dream involved a burgle. She jolted awake as the laundry room door shut again. Someone was bumping around in the kitchen. The door opened again and the visitor grabbed a few trash bags. Lindsey got up, walking into the kitchen to find her brother.

"I wasn't expecting you up," She said.

"They just left." Ryan explained. "I'm going back to bed."

It was 5:30 and Lindsey went back to bed too - but only until voices came from the kitchen. She turned on the fan to cover- but then found herself too cold to go back to sleep. Getting up she found it to be around 8:30. It was the sleepy sort of excitement that kept her from being able to either fall asleep or do anything terribly productive. She went to her computer, listening to some of the songs for the show. Checking the backtracks. Should she find a slower backtrack? Was there even a backtrack to this song? And without a little boy, should she replace the duet?

Then it was off to church where she asked a few aquaintances if they acted or knew any actors. No one did.

But as the service started, the preacher announced there was a ford, oldsmobile, four-door, red with the license plate number - as though the parkinglot was full of 87's oldsmobile. Lindsey slipped outside, before she thought too much about it to get embarrassed.

Outside she saw Paster Jermiah heading her way.

"Oh, is it yours?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's mine."

"We were just afraid it was sticking out too far and would get hit. It looks fine now."

Lindsey explained she'd arrived during the first service when the parkinglot had been full. The parking attendant had her move it to the new line of cars.

She eyed him. Dark hair with grey emerging, a well-kept beard.

Ask him if he acts.

He looked like a good potential for a Titanic character and Lindsey opened the door again, sliding out.

"Are you an actor?"

A pleased, confused smile broke out on his face. "Yes, I am. How did you know?"

Lindsey grinned. "I think God put my car in the wrong spot."

She explained about the Titanic production and the man seemed interested. He had a marathon this weekend but if that was not a conflict...

Lindsey gave him the time and place of auditions, then returned to the building grinning.

She still needed a lot of younger guys but she thought this man was meant to be in the show.

During the service she found herself thinking about Palacios and what it would be like to move back to a town with no theater.

But she could do theater. She could write a play. Perform it somewhere outside for the public for free. Use it to show people how real people could be freed and used by God. Perhaps it would be about characters becoming free from addiction. Finding salvation. She didn't know. But just because a town had no stage or theater, didn't mean they couldn't use drama to touch lives.

At home, Kayla left a voice mail that several of her high school and recently graduated friends were coming to auditions. It would be crazy holding auditions, then trying to fit people into roles (she hoped just enough people showed up to be used so she didn't have to turn anyone down.)

She'd have to cast before she could tweak the script, before she could make a final call list for rehearsals. So that left an afternoon free. It had been a long time since she'd had time to take off from the Titanic and she went on a long walk, listening to old Irish music that had inspired her book series. She had written a script in less than two weeks. Things were falling into place. If she could do this - she could get her books out. It had been a long hard uphill climb learning everything it took to produce a book.

But her spirits were high as she took some time to edit a few of the neglected pages to the second book in her series.

Audition Day

She didn't remember what woke her - she only knew she didn't want to be woken.

Lindsey glanced at her cell to find it was 7:00. Relief flooded her - she'd been so tired, she'd forgotten to set it. At the same time, it felt like she'd blinked and woken - had she'd slept at all?

Lord... I feel like David. I told everyone this show was your will so... work it out, please.

I'm going to be sick...

She read her Bible which was full of passages about God being under control. If he can save King David from a storm of troops, he could bring 27 actors to auditions. But it was so hard to believe it.

She dressed, managed to eat three stale pieces of cereal, then gave up. As hungry as she was, she wouldn't be able to eat until well after auditions.

She wondered if she would actually throw up today before auditions ever started. Feeling as though she should turn on a camera and make a reality show, she waited for her sister to get ready. Growing more ill by the moment, making calls to make sure her Grandmother had gathered up the cameras.

Arriving at the theater, she thought being director required more acting than being an actress. Thirty minutes of setting up, rearranging tables, sorting cuttings.

Then the wait.

The first hour thirty minutes ticked by and the doors remained empty. Saturday morning on spring break was a terrible time.

Lindsey went on faith, arranging the rehearsal schedule with Pat. When they had finished, the door opened and a gentleman walked in. "I just came by," he said. "I saw you needed a cast between 20 years and 40 years. I might be too old."

Lindsey resisted snatching his arm. "No, no, we need everyone."

At the moment she needed anyone.

Waiting for the gentleman to fill out the form, she worked to print out the newly-made schedule. Then the first audition commenced.

Four words out of Mr. King's mouth had everyone perking up. With a rich, deep voice that sounded like the movies from the 50's, the five people in the room broke into claps almost before he'd finished.

He was a mail carrier so he had to rush out, but he was followed by many thanks and lifted spirits. A few moments later, a girl passed by the window, walking into the room and Maranda laughed as she came in the door, glancing around. "Am I the first one?"

"Second!" Lindsey called, "Good to see you!"

"My sister played "Kate" in the musical "Titanic" and I worked on costumes and set design," Maranda explained. "I'm new to Texas and wanted to get to know people."

She filled out the form, wishing her boyfriend didn't work evenings. He could do an Irish accent and his name was Andrew.

"That's one of my favorite names!" Lindsey exclaimed thinking about her story character of Andrew who was an Irish boy who found himself on the Titanic.

"Mine too!" Miranda said. "I always liked Andy."

Lindsey asked her to read for Kate, and Sarah and Kayla portrayed the other Irish girls, with Amy volunteering to be the boy. Maranda sang for the show, portraying a beautiful voice from her training as an opera singer.

While she was describing her job at H.E.B., offering to get word out for the next audition on Monday, Keith walked in. Keith had played Captain Smith before in another Titanic production in the town and he asked, with a twinkle in his eye, "Do I need to audition or do I just get the part."

So now with a total of four actors, Lindsey read Keith and Maranda.

Just after they left, Steve emerged from the office, phone in hand, "Lindsey, it's from you."

She had never recieved a phone call directly to the theater, and Lindsey pulled it up, hoping for more auditioners. It had been a toying game with people coming in for a meeting or to see the building or mow the lawn - with no intention of trying out for the story of an ill-fated ship.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Chance."

Chance! There he was. He'd done shows with Lindsey before - lamenting with her when they discovered last years Titanic show would not be repeated. They had to do something for the 100th anniversary.

"What's going on, Chance?"

"Cody and I are coming out. Do we need to bring backtracks to sing with?"

"No. Just sing."

"Okay." A note of relief poured into his voice. "That makes things easier. We'll be there soon."

Lindsey hung up, walking out with a smile. It seemed to be picking up, relieving her fears of waiting for people who never came."

"Two more coming!" she called.

And they came, making a grand entrance in tall green hats, and Irish shirts, befitting an actor auditioning on Saint Patty's day.

Lindsey laughed on her way to greet the boys, giving each a hug. She'd spent three months onstage with Chance playing Uncle Henry and Chance the lion who went beside her on their way to the Emerald City. Before that she had played Chance's wife and the two had worked through dancing rehearsals together. The familiar faces were completed by Emme walking through the door, also from Wizard of Oz and in the midst of the reunion, Frank stepped into the room. Reading for Joseph Boxhall, he easily fit into the roles of a man in charge. Across from Emme's portrayal as a rich woman, concerned about her baggage, the two put on a good dialouge. Frank read for the Captain before leaving the youth to complete their auditions. Emme's clear voice carried singing, "Part of your World." Chance and Cody teased each other in the roles of Jack and Harold.

Pat who had been watching as hostess of the building, sat quietly until Sarah turned to her. "Are you going to audition?"

"I can," Pat said. "I think the only part I could play is Charlotte Cardeza. The others are too young."

"Go ahead!" People encouraged. Lindsey thought she might be tweaking parts anyway. She teased that she should have auditioned and then wrote the script.

Sarah offered to audition as a backup. She wasn't fond of acting. Rehearsals were to be endured for the final show - not used as social events as Lindsey did. But if she needed to be in the show, she'd stand by her sister and be in it.

"Lindsey, are you going to be in it?" Emme asked.

"Probably," Lindsey laughed. "I'll probably have to be."

"So sing. You should sing too!"

"Okay."

"But nothing from Wizard of Oz!" her former fellow cast-members protested.

It recieved only a groan.

Wizard of Oz was fun but they'd all moved on.

So Lindsey stood in front of her own camera, unsure what to sing. Then sang the first song that came to her. "I should have known that you'd be here. I should have known it all along. This whole arrangement bares your stamp. You're in each measure of that song. How dare you try to claim me now. How dare you come invade my life!"

Then switching stances, she lowered her voice from her usual high voice to her usual still-high/low voice. "Oh Christine. My Christine. When the.... do da da da da da da.... On the night just before you were wed...." She couldn't remember the Phantom's part as well as Christine's she she ended the song.

Ending auditions with a total of eleven characters, it left dropping them into potential places. It was difficult. Good actors - she could play this role - but it depended on if someone was playing her husband. He could do that role, but then others would have to shuffle. It was fun - one of her favorite parts of casting. This imagining, mixing people. Working parts out like a jigsaw puzzle. A few more phone calls. A few leads.

In the Wal-Mart isle, looking for another gallon of peanut oil, Lindsey's phone rang. Chance's number came up but Cody was on the end of the line.

"Hey. I talked to Dan. If you have a flyer for auditions, you can put them at the Palace."

"Great!" Lindsey's mind worked quickly. Was there enough ink? Was there a way she could change the days on the PDF poster that Brandi had designed.

It was the clentcher that moved Lindsey's attendance to Willy Wonka up a week. Piknic came in handy to cover the old audition dates and type in new. With a poster printed, Lindsey set off to the Palace where she knew over half the cast in their current show.

Taping it onto the door, she stopped by the concession stand manned by Danny and Emme. Danny told her he was excited about the show - to see someone as young as her with such an interest in such an old story.

If he had any idea about the Big, White House, he might not be so surprised.

Lindsey eyed the crowd as she found a seat in the second row from the front. Not one person did she recognized but a glance at the program told her where all her friend were. Behind the big, black curtain that fascinated the boy who plopped into a seat beside her.

"Get up," the father said. "She has someone there."

"No, I don't," Lindsey said. "He can sit there."

It was the boy's first time in a live theatre. He kept asking when it was starting and why it wasn't starting yet. Who was behind the curtain? Did she have kids back there? Did she have grand kids back there? Would she like some popcorn?"

"He'll talk your ear off," the father warned.

Later the boy switched seats with the girl who informed Lindsey that she had seen "Alice in Wonderland" here.

It wasn't at the Palace - it had to be the high school - and likely was Lindsey's cousin Lauren playing Alice.

When the show started, vague memories played of watching the show at her grandma's - again in the church waiting on her parents to ready for programs. She remembered wanting to try the flavored wall-paper and the mushroom. She remembered better the feeling of horror at the sight of the oompa-loompas or the terrible things that happened to spoiled children - and how unsympathetic Willy Wonka was. Tonight she smiled nearly the entire show. There was Ron, playing the deaf grandpa and making her miss her Sweeny Pop. Oh, and his wife Dana beside him. And little Tex - how badly she wished he didn't have a competition on performance nights. There was someone new playing the grandfather - and he was good. Where had she seen him? Was there a part he could play in Titanic? The father was a possibility. Would it be strange to ask him to come audition?

She didn't get a chance to talk to either man afterwards, but spoke with several other actors who would be finishing up that show in time to start on another. Some had commitments. Some were interested in showing up. She hoped she could find a spot for everyone. She still needed a lot of younger actors, as there weren't many middle-aged parts. She might be doing a lot of rewriting.

Talking to David and Gary, she knew she'd at least have two younger guys as potentials to fill in some of the needed parts.

Then back to home.

Bon Voyage!

Hot chocolate would do in a pinch.

Apparently, chocolate was Lindsey's latest stress relief.

As if anything could relieve her stress tonight.

Around her lay the freshly printed cuttings, collated and stapled to be passed from hand to hand at auditions tomorrow. In front, tiny scenes were taped onto blue construction paper from her efforts to organize them according to actors to arrange a rehearsal schedule. She had one now - twenty rehearsals, the first few weeks focusing only on a group at a time.

If she could get the theater for those days.

If she could get actors to show up on those days.

If there was even a show.

With a cast of 29, it had been a crazy week, researching, writing, rewriting, arranging imaginionary conversations amoung real people. Taking dialogue straight from research when she could - then worrying over how it would come across to a modern audience.

Was her script even any good? She'd been happy the last read-through, though even now she remembered bits that she'd forgotten to put in the script. But now, skimming it for cuttings for auditions, it looked like trash. Like a script that had been written with the help of lots of coffee and little sleep. Like she'd pushed pennies with names on them, around the table, trying to visulize the stage direction. Like she'd worked with paint fumes, hammering, and electric tools as the house around her was remolded.

Tonight she sat down to try and organize her whirling thoughts into some sort of order.

She had a building - given that the show was allowed to go on with enough actors to fill the parts.

She had face-booked on her site, the Titanic site - even caught that long-neglected bird and sent a tweet out to #onemilliontitanicfans.

Surely at least a few of those million were somewhere in her area with nothing to do for the next seven weeks.

She'd been told by several people she was crazy - tonight she believe them.

But her voice was on the radio, articals in the paper - even getting a one-page spread as the "citizen of the day" which would be read by friends, enemies and relatives alike.

Things had been easier at first.

She'd written the entire outline of the script overnight.

She'd called Rob who was already working one show, asking for backdrops for Titanic. He said to let him know what she needed.

Her uncle, Rocky, had jumped on the special effect boat and had spent a few evenings plotting the dry-ice that would pour over the stage like water, the sugar-bottle that would smash, and the lighting effects that would "wow" the audience.

She'd met twice at the theater to go over details about who would do what.

But as Rob said, "There was just her - and there wasn't very much of her."

Brandi informed her that "she was so little highschool kids would walk over her."

The last meeting had clarified that if she didn't have enough people show up at the morning auditions, the show might not go on.

She'd been so sure this was God's will. That he had dropped the experience in her lap at a time when she was searching for him. Even with a little bit of pay.

The screens fell into place. The special effects feel into place.

Brandi had called her to come get a few costumes and loaded two cars with around 100 gowns.

The original dates on the 100th anniversary had moved back to May - three weeks before she'd turn twenty-five.

But her hopes of raising a bit of money for IJM fell through, leaving her wondering how God was planning on working through this show.

She had no producer. No stage manager.

And tonight she wasn't even sure if she had more than a handful of actors.

Lord, you're going to have to help me here. I need people. I need a stage manager. I need suits for the men. I need enough money to cover the dry ice and special effects. I need help.

I at least need reassurance that I didn't hear you wrong and waste the last two weeks of my life working around the clock to get this going. I'm exhausted and the show hasn't even started yet.

It was feeling like a mess.

She still needed to drive to her sister's house where she was sleeping while guests occupied her normal room. She wondered if she would even sleep tonight.

The script wasn't quite finished.

She hadn't checked to make sure the rehearsal schedule was even feasible and correct against the script. She hadn't even gotten the script to the man who was considering the role of Captain Smith.

"The Ship of Dreams" might remain only a dream.

But never-the-less, she would be running auditions at 9:00 the next morning - who had ever heard of morning auditions? She hadn't, but thus the theater decreed.

After, she'd been plugging in people, making phone calls. Hopefully setting up a second audition day.

One morning wasn't enough to cast 29 people.

Especially if she was asleep.

And yet, how apt this production was.

Her first to direct alone.

Her largest play to be in charge of.

The story of a large ship, full of hopes and dreams on a perilous journey seemed a rather apt story line to parallel her life.

In this show, Jack and Rose didn't exist.

But Quigg smuggled his girlfriend on board, keeping his engagement a secret from his family. Thomas Andrews still fixed the clocks and wandered the halls in search of corrections. Mary and Margaret discussed a bright future in America. Jeremiah blessed Kate with his Holy Water to keep them both safe on their journey. Charlotte boarded with 27 pieces of luggage. Molly Brown sang with a five-year-old child. The Caldwells escaped the suspicion of the missionary board, in search of a cure for Sylvia's mysterious illness. Ruth Becker dreamed of growing up to marry like Ethel.

They were real people with real stories. Fascinating stories of courage and despair. Of sacrifice and survival. It was their stories that had kept her engrossed in a book six years before. It was their stories that she thought of every April. It was their tales that kept her at her computer now. It was the 100th anniversary and she wanted to honor them. To keep the tales alive. To share with people the true lives of people who had found out what they were made of when a boat began to sink under their feet.

Once again their stories hung in the balance, to be revived or to sink back into the pages of history.

Each story hung on one person who would or would not show up tomorrow.

Lindsey wondered what sort of persons she would find.