CALLED TO THE CHOSEN
June 10, 2021
Have you seen any good movies lately?
I asked my friend MM.
“Yes.” he answered. “My wife and I are watching a streaming series called The Chosen, about Jesus selecting the apostles.
“Does Peter (the one I identify with) have ADD?”
“Oh yeah.” he responded.
“And Matthew is autistic. It’s great.”
And so it began.
MM is one of the friends on whose entertainment, and spirituality, judgment I rely.
If he likes it; I will like it.
The first two episodes were, frankly, disturbing.
By the end of the third one, the show had me by the throat.
When Jesus says to Mary Magdalene “You are mine.”
I choked up.
That was my experience being relieved of my self-inflicted substance abuse addiction,
The production values and writing and acting had already blown me away for a volunteer funded show.
It streams for free, now, basically, all over the world in many different languages.
The series was funded by donations and whatever they might make off branded merchandise.
I watched and re-watched episodes.
Looking for inconsistencies with my knowledge of scripture.
I found none.
The show fleshes out the gaps in the Gospel in a meaningful way that enhances my understanding of the New Testament.
These gaps constitute most of each episode and are the product of the imagination of the producer and writers.
It is a phenomenon.
* * * * * * * * *
I do not have the names or season/episode numbers memorized – many fans do.
But the next two that grabbed me were in the same episode.
First, Peter, my man, is walking with Jesus after a long, contentious, morning meeting of the chosen – up to that point in time.
He is impatient with them, as his brain reaches the, to him, obvious, conclusion well before they do.
He keeps interrupting, attempting to move them along.
Which, understandably, shall we say, annoys them all.
He is suggesting to Jesus, altruistically, he thinks, that he be put in charge of this unruly group – in the interest of efficiency and effectiveness.
“Simon, Simon, I have such plans for you.” Jesus pauses.
“Next time one of these discussions happens, why don’t you just listen.”
These words could have been directed at me at that moment for the same precise reason.
Later, the outcast reformed tax collector Matthew is accompanied by Phillip, who is encouraging him; counseling that if he just sticks with it, the group will come around to accepting him.
Matthew abruptly stops.
He picks up a stick off the ground and describes a circle in the dust.
He looks at Phillip and says “My whole life, it looks like everyone else is here-“ as he moves the stick around inside the circle.
“And I am somewhere out here.”
And he moves the stick and touches it to the earth as far as his arm can reach without moving the rest of his body, then looking at Phillip with his forlorn face.
Every addict I know has felt that way.
We did not get the rule book.
Everyone else knows what to do and we are totally lost.
* * * * * * * * *
I keep changing my mind on who is the best performer.
When I pray to Jesus, I see Johnathan’s benign countenance.
I think Mary Magdalene is over the top, and then Jesus’ mother Mary comes into the show and I am blown away again.
And again. John. Andrew. No, it’s . . . .
I give up.
They are all superb.
* * * * * * * *
By the time I watch the Christmas special, it seems the series was created with me, specifically, in mind.
Less than ten seconds after the announcement that ten thousand extras will be needed to film the finale of Season Three – the miracle of the loaves and fishes.
It costs $1,000 and I will have to provide my own costume and lodging and flight to Dallas and my mind does not even stop to analyze anything.
I am called.
I must answer.
On December14, 2021, I get the email: you are CONFIRMED to be an extra.
I am joyful yet unsurprised.
I have other places I have to be at various times.
All we are told is the filming will be sometime oin the spring.
I do not watch all the updates from Dallas, the producer, not the city, but I see there are massive issues with starting shooting and he asks for our prayers.
Done.
On March 5 , 2022, I get the email that the dates are set, June 7 and June 8, pick one.
Once again, I I am joyful yet unsurprised.
On March 11, my AIRBNB near Dallas is confirmed.
I am budget conscious and this place, according to the internet, is about 45 minutes from the studio in Midlothian.
Close enough and the price is right.
And more information in that email: Expect to be on set 10 to 12 hours with an early call time
I feel like a movie veteran, having been one of over 1,000 extras for a scene in the movie “Hoffa” starring the best actor of my time, Jack Nicholson.
Shot in my native Detroit, I had a feel for the long hours, of mostly waiting, and repeating the same scene over and over.
March 22, I have the (NOT) brilliant idea that they should setup a system for first day extras, like me, my email about day 1 extras leaving wardrobe for second day 2 extras.
After they stopped laughing for 8 days, I was told they had enough logistics to deal with and would be unable to accommodate my suggestion.
Later we were told that we had to arrive in costume.
So, in addition to the other obvious reasons, if I left my wardrobe on day one I would be undressed for the ride to my AIRBNB.
The good news on March 22: I get my E-ticket!!!
Required! Must have! DON’T forget!
The dire warnings are repeated up to June 7.
One of the ways I manufactured stress for myself.
MUST be printed copy, so saving on the phone and my laptop will not work.
April 5, I break down and book my flight, having given up that air fares will drop.
April 7, I buy the official Chosen mask because we are told we have to be masked all day except when on camera per Screen Actors Guild rules.
I refer to my brain as sequential – one thing at a time.
On April 19, I finally start contemplating my wardrobe by downloading the video explanation and description.
Looks complicated.
I will get to it later.
God is near to overwhelming me with other things I am called to do.
April 24, Season 3 kickoff livestream.
I fall asleep but have saved the link.
Takes me about a week to get through it but my excitement is building.
On April 25, email stating the guidelines while we are on set.
These are obvious to a veteran like me.
(Did I mention I have an issue with pride?)
Such as: Don’t talk to the actors; they are working, do not distract them.
On May 13 comes the email for signing up when you will check in for covid test before final clearance to get on the busses to the stage site.
I know the first group, 4 to 5 a.m., will have first choice of some or many things but decide to take the next slot, 5 to 6 am.
Partly because it looks like a 45 minute drive and partly because my flight gets in late Monday afternoon.
May 16, good news! SAG rules have changed and no masks required on set, just on the bus to the set.
Yeah!!!
I was not looking forward to wearing a mask 10 to 12 hours in the hot Texas sun.
About this time, having made zero wardrobe progress, I figure there is probably a Facebook group I can join which will have lots of tips.
Which I need.
There is; I do, and there are great tips.
More to come on that.
On May 17, TURO car reserved.
Thank God my sister mentioned this option.
I pay extra for airport delivery and return.
I know Dallas is a big hub airport and I do not want to have to figure transportation to and from a different location to get the car.
Back to wardrobe.
Never did figure out the bag.
Looked at Walmart’s, Hobby Lobby’s, thrift ships, per the FB group.
Nada.
I have 2 to return as did not work when I examined them further.
I had started with online order of yoga mat that looked first century.
The obvious requirement for everything.
And an online cap, small, which fit the bill.
I have had heat exhaustion and first priority is my safety.
Simple and light.
Sandals ordered online when I read the tip that recommended sandals with heel strap.
So that when someone could not step on the sandal from behind,.
This reminded me of one of the reasons I never wear sandals.
So I will return the online ordered pair without it having been opened.
Leaving Monday and the Wednesday before I found a pair at Walmart that worked.
Hallelujah!
Then I saw a picture of a guy who hid the buckles by winding fabric strips around them.
Gee, I think I could do that.
My confidence having been boosted by making my own tunic!
Someone on the FB group linked to a 5 minute video on how to make your tunic.
Hmmm.
5 minutes, eh?
OK, I will watch it.
Time is running out.
Son of a gun, it is simple.
Get some period fabric (I chose linen) in the appropriate color (clearly specified in the illustrated wardrobe instructions) and some fabric glue.
I did have to go back as the 2 yards I started with were too short.
I bought another yard and glued it to the first two.
Let it dry overnight then followed the video and applied the glue per the instructions.
Let it dry overnight.
I had been reading about distressing the clothing so that it did not look new.
Duh! Forehead thud moment.
Spread it out in the sun to see I missed gluing an entire section.
Glue that and let it dry overnight
Now less than a week to age it in the sun.
Used one day to stain with tea.
Then his on the idea of spilling some olive oil – first century consistent – sporadically on part of the outfit.
Had decided to use my hunting long johns that wick perspiration under the tunic.
Posted a picture which showed the collar and was advised that would not work.
So trimmed that and the sleeves.
And some olive oil on the cap.
Which I left outside a couple nights and then scrunched up to try inducing some wrinkling.
It is what it is.
Find a small cloth bag that looks like it will fit the bill,
I had brown acrylic paint to put on the excised green tunic fabric strips I had wound around the sandals so I slopped that on the bag and hung it to dry two days before liftoff.
May 31 The filming schedule is released.
Hollywood veteran that I am, having also been an extra in “Tiger Town” for a scene shot in Tiger Stadium in 1983, and, being allowed for a day on the set of the 2003 flick “Duplex” produced by a college roommate, I paid no attention to a schedule that I knew would be changed.
I also learn that my beloved Wolverine baseball team, which had won the Big Ten tournament after finishing 12 – 12 in the conference regular season, would be playing in the regional hosted by Louisville.
Hurray!
An excuse to visit my daughter Erin in Lexington!
She is too busy on the horse farm to get away for the game but I can drive to Louisville for the UM game at 7:00 pm and then to Lexington.
And make the round trip for the Saturday game.
Double elimination, so we may well lose, as the #3 seed in the 4 team regional, and have no game Sunday.
We shall see how it plays out.
* * * * * * * *
I am so happy at this unexpected turn of events that I forget about the required PCR test.
When I realize that I cannot take it Friday, and will not be able to get one on Sunday, and there will not be time Monday before my flight, panic sets in.
I text my daughter’s boyfriend who quickly responds that
6-1. covid test panic sets in – must test in KY Saturday, do not know UM gametime until Friday over.
This means I have to find GUARANTEED same day test in Lexington or Louisville.
I text my daughter’s boyfriend who says the Bourbontown pharmacy in Paris KY can do that on Saturday.
Paris is the small town outside Lexington closest to the horse farm.
I check their website.
It says open Monday through Friday.
I save this task for the last of my day and being tired does not help.
I make an appointment at a Walgreen’s.
And keep looking.
The Chosen Extras Facebook group has all kinds of information.
Of course, much of it is contradictory.
I wondered what I was thinking to not book a flight that did not leave until Monday.
Then I realized God provides.
Had I left earlier, I would have missed the Kentucky trip to see my daughter for the first time since January.
By Friday, I decide I will just have to figure it out in Saturday morning in Kentucky.
Daniel tells me the website is wrong; they are open Saturdays but book an appointment; don’t just go there.
I set one for 9:30.
Turns out to be 15 minutes away.
Lobby not open.
They come to the car, get the payment, do the nose swab, and say results in 45 minutes to an hour.
I have some errands to run as still looking for a bag that fits the guidelines.
I brought my acrylic brown painted one but am not satisfied with it.
Check the thrift store.
Nada.
Check the Walmart, my daughter needed some garbage bags anyway, and find nothing.
Oh well.
Back for the test result.
Negative.
I had no doubt of the result but realize, yet again, I have manufactured stress over nothing.
Although they could have answered my email asking if they were open Saturday.
As with everywhere else, the website says we do not take calls regarding testing.
My team came back to beat #2 seed Oregon 8 – 6 in an exciting game.
So we get host #1 seed, #12 nationally ranked, Louisville at 5:00 p.m.
Louisville rested their ace and easily defeated the #4 seed so I have little hope of victory.
Especially after our first 8 batters are easily retired.
Then a single, home run, home run, single.
We are ahead!
We continue pounding their ace and he is pulled.
Our suspect pitching is splendid and we win 7 to 4.
We might win this thing and advance!
Louisville has to beat us twice.
I stop at the Paris Mexican restaurant for my favorite and food for the home crew plus their friend-part time worker.
They are still finishing work in the barn so I eat before they get up to the house.
A leisurely Sunday morning.
I am up early.
Work on my computer.
Make it to Pentecost Mass.
Decide I will drive to Louisville for the
4:00 p.m. game and then head home.
Wonderful weather all weekend.
Everything breaking my way.
Well, our lack of pitching depth is exposed.
I leave at 6:00 p.m. when we are down 12-1 and the final is 20-1.
I get back after midnight.
In the morning, stuff to do and I have not even finished wrapping the buckles of my sandals in fabric leftover from tunic project.
It is what it is.
Get packed.
Leave on time.
I did get the airport parking I wanted.
I know I have to check a bag because the yoga mat will not fit into the carry on.
All smooth until a little bump with the Turo car provider finding me.
The Dallas airport is a city.
I drive almost 5 miles before I get to the exit where you have to pay to get out.
Find my AIRBNB.
Congenial hostess there; I bring in my stuff, then go shopping as I figured why try bringing sun block et cetera on the plane?
Just buy small containers in Texas.
And I need something to eat.
Walgreens and Kroger are close by so all set.
I finish wrapping the sandals and get to
bed around 10:00 p.m. as I need to be up at 4:00 a.m. to leave by 4:30 a.m.
* * * * * * *
JUNE 7, 2022
Getting excited now, but still anxious that I find it in the dark and remember everything required.
I signed up for the 5:00 to 6:00 a.m. slot.
They had to slot arrivals to allow the staff time and room to do the Covid test.
I make it by 5:30 to discover I left my brand new UV umbrella behind.
Oh well.
I did stick my summer straw hat in the car so I throw that in my brown-painted bag to use instead.
(Resuming this December 11, 2022 at Pine Stump)
I follow the directions of the numerous blue-shirted assistants – I found out later over 200 volunteers – to the next open specific parking place. Every other space crossed out in chalk so that there is room for other volunteers to do the SAG required Covid swab test while I remain in the car.
I passed!
That is a relief as flunking prevents my participation.
More driving.
Follow the directions out of this lot and down the road to the lot next to the stadium.
It is light now.
I spot an open space but a woman is adding to her costume with her back to me.
As she finishes, she turns to her left, the vehicle in which she arrived, and says I should have honked for her to move.
I said I thought I could make it through this day without honking at anyone and I could go back to my regular self tomorrow.
She laughed.
Happy to have my simple costume, I followed the crowd to where the buses were loading.
I then learned I did not have to wear a mask on the bus.
Cool.
And a very nice bus it was.
I sat in the back in front of the water closet.
The large monitors every second or third row showed a tape of Dallas Jenkins stating the truth: filming is long, boring periods of nothing to do punctuated by bursts of activity.
Forecast is close to 100 degrees – in the shade, as are all official temperatures.
Having had heat exhaustion once in my life, job one is avoiding a repeat.
I walk slowly over a slight rise to the staging area.
It is a great set up.
The adequate number of porta-johns are way off to my right.
In between are various large letters spelling out things like THE CHOSEN.
A volunteer is there taking pictures of people posed in front of the signs.
I have one taken of me and text it to the friend who told me about the show.
I said “This is your fault.”
Multiple large tents, the front completely open, with water, electrolytes, oranges and other fruit.
First is the closed tent with the entry ramp leading up to the gift shop but the free gift awaits us at the end.
A small cloth bag with, what else? The Chosen written on it.
Nice.
Next task?
Find some shade.
The first solo small tree is taken.
Another hundred feet or so is a tiny grove of bushes with a small tree – all thorn covered, to my dismay – but completely open.
I plop down the yoga blanket I had.
And resolved to move only for water or treks to the johns.
My camo long johns are showing so the couple a few feet in front of me strike up a conversation about hunting.
And fishing.
They are from Oklahoma.
I give him my number if he gets to Michigan and wants to go fishing.
Shortly thereafter a woman asked if there were room for her?
Of course, two can fit sitting on the blanket.
I bemoan having left my new ultra-violet protecting umbrella behind when she unfolds a full size umbrella that covers both of us.
And thus a great partnership was formed.
She shares my aversion to heat exhaustion.
We talk about how the Chosen grabbed us.
She is a retired teacher from Philadelphia.
We take turns fetching water.
I trek over to the huge tent with tables and chairs for announcements.
Something about the early greens.
I knew there would be something extra for those who took the four to five a.m. slot.
And there is.
The first, I think it was 200, get to walk over the hill to be in the scene of the crowd arriving for the talk Jesus was giving.
Ah, well.
I go back to sit in the shade and converse.
Tough to get any reception on my smart phone.
Resting is nice though.
Just in the last week, they decided to break us into three shifts of about 1700 each.
I had signed up for the first shift as that was in the morning before maximum heat.
We would then return to the staging area for the lunch break.
Group two was next.
Group three would stay as the rest of us were joining for the big finale shoot.
Some of group three were gloating over being able to sleep in.
I thought you must not have paid attention to that weather forecast.
You will be in the maximum heat of the sun for hours on end.
There were golf carts available for those who wanted to avoid the – I think they said 8 minute – walk over the hill.
I filed that away, thinking if I am fine by the end of the shooting day, I will avail myself of that luxury to remove any last risk to my health.
I had brought water and electrolytes and such with me, per the recommendations.
And sun block, which was also available on site.
As was insect repellant as chiggers had invaded and caused problems.
Veteran movie extra that I am, the long waits did not surprise me.
I was privileged to be one of 1,100 or so extras for the Miami Convention scene in the Nicholson flick “Hoffa.”
Filmed at Cobo Hall in Detroit.
In movieland, getting 2-4 minutes of usable film is considered a good day’s shooting.
They used over 2 minutes of the day I was there.
For 14 hours.
But I am a huge Nicholson fan so did not mind.
Even the reduced crowd of 1,700 required relaying of instructions from the director way up in the front to the back row up on the hill.
The crowd ranged from babes in arms to octagenarians.
Yet all followed instructions immediately.
There were no second takes because people were craning their necks or pointing at their favorite cast member.
Well, there was one guy, like the old me, who had a ten foot walking stick.
We were allowed one as part of our costume but he held his sticking straight up into the air.
I recognized the tactic as enabling him to find himself in the crowd shot.
But, the assistant director said it obstructed one of the cameras so down it came.
Worth the try, I thought to myself.
It was explained that glasses had to be taken off and hidden jewelry removed and concealed.
Anything post 30 A.D.or so could not be on camera.
And sunglasses of course.
Dallas Jenkins simple directions were “Don’t overact.”
I think he meant “Don’t act.” But maybe he was used to encountering professionals who might do that.
He followed that with “Just act like you would in church listening to a sermon.”
So I snored loudly to the delight of those who could hear me.
I could not hear what the actors way up there were saying but I looked intently in their direction.
So did everyone else.
Everyone was into it.
We had all paid our way there and for our costumes and lodging after plunking down $1,000 for the privilege.
So we were really all producers of the show as well as extras.
The ready to roll command was relayed up the line through the assistant directors. They would look to the boss, hear the instructions, then turn around to face uphill while raising their megaphones to repeat the words.
As the last in the chain, the one in charge of the top group, said “Take off your sunglasses and . . .” his voice faded as he lowered the megaphone, lowered his voice as he said “Oh. You already did.”
We could see the rows in front of us putting away their 21st century accoutrements so we followed suit.
I was amazed.
Thousands of obedient people.
Not a common sight.
Anywhere.
Years, alright, decades ago, I was an extra in the film “Hoffa.”
About 1,100 extras for that one day of shooting who were, like me, trying to get on camera or get close to or at least a view of Jack Nicholson.
Not so concerned with quickly following directions.
The movie making continued at the usual slow pace.
None of the retakes were caused by extras goofing up.
We meandered back across the hill when our shift was done.
Lunch time.
Again, swiftly and courteously handled with nary a cross word or dirty look from an of the 5,000 being fed.
No “ you cut in front of me!” or “that’s my foot you stepped on.”
Courtesy abounded.
Someone from the stage in front of the big tent kept talking about a special treat for us.
Different Christian bands and singers had been performing but nothing I was going to sit in the sun to hear.
By this time, the sun being overhead, our shade from the mini-grove had disappeared.
Ann found shade around the edge of one of the big refreshment tents.
Just enough space left for us to share my yoga blanket.
About 1:30, the speakers blared: “Here they are! The cast is here on stage! Told you it would be a great treat!”
I got up for this.
Being late to the party, I was near the back again.
The actors playing the apostles passed a hand mike moved along the line ending with Shakaar. (Peter)
They were turning around to take selfies with the crowd, answering questions that were shouted out, smiling and pointing and talking amongst themselves.
As each spoke in turn, sincere gratitude was expressed for all of us making the sacrifice to be there.
The emcee was telling them how far some folks had travelled. There was a woman from South Africa.
The cast was even more impressed as they could see tangible proof of how far the message of the show had gone.
Parras (Matthew) was asked what big change in Season Three that he could share with us.
He said he was most excited about his character’s “new threads.”
We laughed, as Matthew wore the exact same outfit every episode for the first two seasons.
You could tell we just gave them all extra motivation.
Shakaar was the anchor and he said so explicitly.
“We are professional actors. So we were shooting scenes yesterday to an empty hill pretending you were all there. We can do that. But I have to say, seeing you all there this morning, just really gave us more energy.”
Maybe not his exact words but you catch my drift.
This 20 minutes or so just re-energized all of us extras.
Now back to the shade with occasional trips for hydration and to the porta-johns.
Not only was there nary a negative word but everyone was smiling and friendly and exuding positive energy. Just privileged to be able to try to contribute to the common cause of the success of the show and its message.
People must know.
* * * * *
The temperature increased but we all remained calm.
There were several heat exhaustion events, quickly handled by the on-site medical personnel including ambulances.
Conversation interspersed by some napping.
And so the day continued.
We had to move to adjust to the shade hiding from the moving sun.
One spot left my ankles exposed, incurring the only sunburn I suffered.
Anne and I executed our plan of minimal expenditure of energy and maximum hydration.
The second group came and returned followed by the third and final contingent.
They had to remain in the sun after their stint while the first two groups rejoined them for the big finishing scene.
Just before that, Anne and I went into the first big tent, the one with Chosen branded items, clothing, paintings, books, CDs, et cetera, for sale.
We lost each other traversing over the floor space which was almost completely covered by folks avoiding the sun.
The enclosed tent had fans blowing over dry ice which did keep the temperature down even more.
I became enamored of the painting of the scene when Jesus embraces Mary Magdalene just after telling her he had called her by name.
I was not confident of buying it then and there and getting it on the bus and rented car and plane ride back.
I ordered it online and it hangs on the wall over my bed.
The sun was past peak as I slowly proceeded back to over the hill.
Others were conversing about their experiences being extras for the Sermon on the Mount finale of Season Two.
Though shot in the exact same place, that February the temperature fell to 19 degrees Fahrenheit and there was some freezing rain.
“Only” 1,500 extras for that scene.
All of them had to be on set all day other than the required lunch break.
In costume, no winter coats, hats, scarves, boots.
Amazing.
I was told Johnathan Roumie (Jesus) had to leave in the middle of delivering lines to warm up due to his teeth chattering from the cold.
Five different times.
They were collectively called the Frozen Chosen.
Many were trying out names for our gathering.
I think the Fried Thousand won.
Everyone I hear who had been there was enthusiastic about being able to do it again for this scene and completely unconcerned with the challenging elements.
We were on a mission from God.
And ecstatic about that.
Still separated from Anne, I sat next to a man who looked so Roman I remarked on it.
He said that was who he was playing, so clean shaven and toga clad.
I said the Romans were the guards and such. He replied that there were Roman converts and I allowed as how that was correct.
He is from the Big Apple so I asked how The Chosen had penetrated such a pagan environment.
He said some of his church group recommended it but after the first couple episodes he stopped as it was too gruesome.
No spoiler alerts here but I knew what he meant.
Months later, he resumed and was hooked.
He asked how I came to be there/. I related my tale. He just smiled and nodded.
Brothers from across the land hearing the same call.
The volunteers were everywhere offering water.
I believe I drank 5 myself waiting for the shoot to begin.
There were multiple drone cameras in addition to the numerous stationery ones.
We were told what expression to have while Jesus was talking with Andrew and others about how to feed everyone.
This is one of the focal points of the series and my own spiritual path right now.
Jesus said “Bring me what you have.”
Not, no worries, I will just snap my fingers and bread and fish will magically appear in everyone’s lap.”
We are to bring to God what we have and He handles the rest.
I find this tremendously comforting.
The refrain of the the show’s creator, Dallas: “It is not our job to feed the five thousand. It is our job to bring the loaves and fishes.”
I have two of the shirts sporting a form of this message.
I may buy more.
There were two breaks for the two heat exhaustion victims.
Shooting stopped as they were expeditiously taken to ambulances.
We were urged, all day long, to safeguard our health first and foremost. Buses were taking people back throughout the day on request.
The entire operation was most impressive in making our experience as pleasant as possible.
The big finish came after Jesus said “I have been feeding you spiritual food all day. Now it is time for some real food. Let’s eat!” and he raises both hands.
We were told to cheer and applaud and so on when we heard this.
It took them a couple tries to realize all yelling at the same time did not work.
Dallas yelled to one of the Roman guard extras, the poor guys stuck out there all day on a horse in soldier uniforms with metal helmets, to waive his hand.
Dallas said all of those in front would start cheering right after they heard the line and those behind the soldier would count, silently, of course, one-two-three and then join the cheer.
Take one.
Sounded good to me.
Johnathan must have raised his voice because I could hear him deliver this line.
There was a quiet pause from everyone.
Dallas grabbed his megaphone and sounded overcome with emotion.
He had to be exhausted from the months of planning and directing and, well, everything.
He said he was looking at that first take when he felt something on his shoulder.
He looked around to see that his son’s head had fallen on Dallas’s shoulder.
His answer to why? was how the drone shot going over the crowd was not only perfect but just brought home the reality of the miracle he had heard about and read his entire life.
The vastness of the actual live crowd of 5,000 was overwhelming.
Dallas said we would move to the next scene.
Not even two takes.
With that many people, cameras, moving parts?
I found that unbelievable.
I knew the next day, with the second crowd of extras, that they would be shooting all the scenes again, but still.
Powerful to witness all of this.
The heat was subsiding as the sun made its way to the horizon.
I was in no hurry and my arthritic knees were bothering me a little.
Numerous volunteers were standing dispersed along the path back across the hill.
One woman with eagle eyes was scanning everyone and stopped pointing directly at me.
“Would you like a ride in the golf cart?”
I had changed my mind and was going to tough it out but took this as a sign to reverse my plan again.
I must have looked like the 68 year old man with arthritic knees that I am to inspire the question.
She was overly considerate in guiding me to the cart but I just accepted everything.
We motored on the grass outside the slow parade of 5,000 pedestrians on the pathway to where the box dinners were being passed out to everyone.
A small grove of taller trees beckoned so I took a box and slowly enjoyed the repast.
I was next to a family of six and marveled at how they had made it through the day in good shape.
I was happy to wait for a late bus as there were hundreds lined up at any given time and the rest sitting or lying down in the open space between me and the paved road used by the buses.
I availed myself of the offered extra boxes, eating another and taking a couple with me.
There were dozens left and no one in line for them.
It was dusk. I meandered toward the bus line only to walk directly to where Anne was prone on the ground.
I sat down next to her as she said “So we renew our friendship.”
We tried to figure out where in the tent we became separated but failed in that meaningless exercise.
She was of the same mind – resting here beat standing in line for 15 or 20 minutes before being able to board a bus.
As dark descended, we agreed we could join the line.
It moved slower than we anticipated.
With the complete descent of the sun, the withering heat had been replaced with an evening chill.
Reflecting on the 17 or so hours since I left that morning, it occurred to me, and I shared the observation with Anne, that the whole world could be like this every day. Everyone just getting along.
She said yes, it could.
And we had a great day together, sharing details of our spiritual journey and families.
Then she said “If we talked about politics, it might not go that way.”
I nodded slightly in agreement with a let’s not go there message.
We were close enough that we would be on the next bus that arrived.
I noticed a woman in front of us slowly slide to the ground and tumble over on her side.
Her companion knelt next to her and answered our query that she was OK, just a little tired.
Others had already begun screaming for a medic.
Two quickly arrived and took her vitals.
She said she could handle the bus ride and her companion was driving so no, don’t take me to a hospital.
She was given red carpet treatment as the first to board the bus.
My brain reverted to form as I suggested to Anne that she could feign fainting and then we could both jump to the front of the line to get on the bus.
She just smiled.
We exchanged email addresses on the short trip to the parking lot where we parted ways with a hug.
I had told her I was trying to anchor this moment, this feeling, of being totally in the right place spiritually with a huge crowd of people feeling exactly the same. I wanted to be able to call up that memory when things were not going well.
It was 11 p.m. before I walked in the door and went directly to bed, and sleep.
I returned Thursday and, sure enough, was blindsided by some family drama that took me from the fantastic peak to the darkest valley.
That situation has resolved as God intended.
Another blessing! Another opportunity for spiritual growth! Not what I would have planned.
It is only my task to bring the loaves and fishes and leave the results to God.