September 2006

Wicked

  I often tell people I would rather starve and go to the theatre than eat well and stay at home.  The words and music of the theatre nourish me far more than any food ever could.  In fact, if you were to ask me what is going on internally with God, I could answer you based on the music I have been listening to and the shows I have recently seen.  Music, as it probably does for many of you, reaches and changes depths in me few other things ever do.  I will sit there enthralled, my eyes glued to the stage and my heart soaring up to heights unknown.

So for most of the the summer, I have been looking forward to seeing "Wicked", the untold story of the Wicked Witch of the West.  I had heard it was a spectacular show to see as the music was incredible and the story, though unlike the book, which I did indeed read, was fascinating.  In fact, the show had been completely sold out for months so I considered my friend, Leonora, and I lucky we bought our tickets in time.  Finally, September came and large lime green posters unfurled down the sides of the Keller Auditorium as crowds of people started congregating in heightened shared anticipation.  

Lee and I settled in our red velvet seats as I looked through the program.  We could feel excitement coursing through the audience as people eyed the large map of Oz stretched across the stage.  Soon, the theater darkened and the first bursting chords spread a grin across my face.  Suspended, we were taken into a different world as the map raised up to reveal a large clock and singers exclaiming "Good News!"  As the actors sang out their story, my emotions were swept up with them.

Though I have a good voice, I often wish I could sing out what I feel and think in passionate ballads like they do in musicals.  Haven't you ever wanted to see people burst out in dance together on the street or to fill the theater with notes passionately playing out your struggle and triumph?  I sure have!  I wish I could sing out what I really think and feel without making it "acceptable" to the politically-correct world around me. I think there is a balance though in giving voice to your voice.  While God gave us these thoughts and feelings for a reason, they can be like water held behind a dam.  Instead of breaking the dam all at once and letting the water crash through the trees and every living thing in its wake, we need to carve out the channels and at least to a point, help manage the flow so people don't become swept under our new found enthusiasm. 

At the same time, we need to let our voices out.  Water that does not flow can become stale and stagnant, water that will nourish no one.  We can't keep making our voices silent in fear or hurting someone.  To me, it sounds a lot like reading lines in a musical in a monotone flat whisper, or not whispering them at all.  So it is up to you to decide how your voice will be heard.  Whether it is through speaking, singing, writing, or teaching, lift it up, share it, even if just a little bit.  You have a theater full of people waiting to hear you. 

(In the meanwhile, you can hear me singing to "Wicked" with all my heart.) 

Wickedly yours,

      Sarah Katreen Hoggatt

News 

A Christian bookstore in Gig Harbor, WA, called "Good News Christian Books and Music,"

is now carrying the second book, "In His Eyes" for $14.95.  The address is:

Good News Christian Books and Music

5500 Olympic Dr
Gig Harbor WA 98335-1487

(253) 858-9477

I am continuing work on republishing the first book, Learning to Fly, as I only have a few copies left! 

There will be at least eight new poems, a new illustration, a second introduction,

plus some special little "extras" not the least of which is a new cover. 

I am very excited; I think it will turn out very well.  I have received back one of the two manuscripts out for editing

and am working on the additions and changes before going to print.

Poem

Aria of God

Once again with heavy head,

I lay  my face upon your knee.

Once again with tender hand,

you caress the soul of me.

I feel your gentle finger

trace the lines upon my cheek,

then I look into your eyes

and wait for you to speak.

But the words I expect for you to say

never reach my ear.

Instead you hum a melody,

softly, loving, clear.

You seem to sing of heaven,

of eternity with you,

while you sit with me among my pain,

letting your light shine through.