I could see a rip in the jacket. Two rips, actually, maybe an inch long.  It was a popped seam on the back of the right sleeve.  I zeroed in on it when he turned on stage.  I was only sitting four rows back in the audience and I was probably the only one who noticed it.  Probably because I’d stitched up at least five other holes in that jacket, plus one button, all on opening weekend.

A friend and I have earned the beloved title “costume moms” for the middle-high school theater group.  I have not earned it based on my skills or prowess with a needle and thread.  More likely because I’m fairly decent at “creative problem solving” and I have time to volunteer.  My backstage “creative problem solving” kit includes:  two colors of adhesive Velcro, a variety pack of safety pins, three kinds of tape, a mini sewing kit, hair ties, bobby pins, some ribbon and a glue gun.  Because you never know…

This borrowed jacket has been repaired quite a few times.  There’s ample evidence of stitching and restitching many seams.  The thread colors don’t quite match, and the stitches are a little shaky, especially the ones I fixed a half hour before the curtain went up. But it’s a costume, and it only needs to look good while he’s on stage and hold together until the final bows. So I watch and hope the jacket won’t bust open while in the middle of a scene.

There’s something special about being backstage as the kids get ready for a show. There’s an excitement that builds up as more and more kids get into costume, put on makeup, get mic’d up.  Watching them makes me forget about my to-do list and I am just there with them.  Actually, I’m just sitting in a chair out of the way, waiting for someone to- quite literally- fall apart at the seams, but it’s hard not to get caught up in their energy.  There’s a rhythm and a cadence to what might look like chaos. (Although sometimes there is actual chaos… “Where are my shoes?) They are moving in a hundred different directions, and yet they are also moving in the same direction. And I have to smile at the mayhem and the energy, because this is what it means to be a part of something larger than yourself.

When the curtain goes up, the chaos is left behind and the energy is channeled. And there is only the story the actors are gifting to the audience.  If you can let everything else go and just be in it, letting yourself get carried away by the story, amazing things can happen.  I believe listening to a story well told is like being embraced and loved.

I am a storyteller at heart.  Maybe that’s why I love being backstage as a costume mom.  I’m surrounded by stories- behind the scenes and on stage.  Aren’t we all, as humans, a wonderful collection of stories? Sometimes our stories intersect only at certain points, at certain times.  Sometimes they are longer shared experiences. The stories connect us all, the ones we tell and the ones we listen to. Each story is a connection to someone else and each connection is a gift.   The stories are all significant, how you tell them and how you pay attention.  How you feel them and how you share that.

The web of how we are connected is at once vast and comforting.  We are touched by those around us, we are bound together, we are not alone.

We may all be, at one time or another, coming apart at the seams a little. Some days we are only held together by shaky stitches and hopeful wishes. Some days we’ve lost a shoe just before showtime.  And not everyone will know that.  I guess the secret is to find and keep close the people who know but don’t make you feel like you’re going to fall apart. They’re the ones who encourage you to keep sharing stories and to listen to each other. And that’s the best gift of all.

“Strange isn’t it George, how each man’s life touches so many others…” (Clarence the angel, from “It’s A Wonderful Life”)

Wishing you all the best for a beautiful holiday season and a peaceful New Year.