Intersection Column | Out of My Dreams
- mtlmagazine
- 34 minutes ago
- 4 min read
by Irene Hannon
When I’m not writing, I love to sing. I especially love performing in musical theater productions. Through the years, I’ve been blessed to play the leading role in numerous classic musicals, including South Pacific, The King and I, Brigadoon, Anything Goes, and Oklahoma. In fact, you might recognize the title of this post as the name of one of the songs in the last show. And it’s an appropriate way to describe my leap from being an audience member to being on stage.
During most of my growing-up years, I didn’t sing much—although I wanted to. But I was afraid my voice wasn’t that good. I was also afraid to stand up in front of strangers at an audition and sing. What if my voice cracked? What if I started to shake? What if I made a fool of myself?
Still, I yearned to sing on stage. Probably because I have greasepaint in my blood, thanks to my maternal grandparents who both dabbled in amateur vaudeville when they were young. In fact, my grandmother was once offered the opportunity to go to New York to study opera—which she turned down because her father needed her.
So with that genetic greasepaint humming through my veins, I summoned up all my courage in college and signed up for voice lessons. The good news? My teacher didn’t laugh at the first lesson. The bad news? It was clear I had a lot to learn.
For months I sang only with my teacher as an audience. But that next summer, after eight months of lessons, I worked up the courage to audition for a local musical theater production. I didn’t get a role (other than chorus), but I did get a solo line in one of the songs—a huge confidence builder.
Many more auditions followed (some more successful than others), and I was cast in many more choruses—but finally, one day, my determination and persistence paid off and I got my first lead. More followed . . . and my fantasy of singing in the spotlight went from out of my dreams and onto the stage.
I tell this story for a couple of reasons. First, a production of Oklahoma plays a major role in Harbor Pointe. Like me with public singing, Devyn and Aaron are dealing with fear. Making their dream of a life together come true will require a leap of faith that takes both of them out of their comfort zone. But if they can find the courage to let go of their fears, they may discover that many a new day (to borrow the name of another song from the show) will dawn.
The other reason I share this story is because letting go of fear is only part of the equation. Usually dreams require hard work. I took voice lessons for years, and I practiced every single day. I put myself on the line at multiple auditions where most of the people in the room hoped I’d fail (because they wanted the part I was after). If you want a dream badly enough, though, you keep pushing ahead despite the risk of rejection and failure. That’s true in theater as well as in many other pursuits—including writing. It’s also true in the world of ballet, as Devyn’s backstory demonstrates. Dreams can come true, but wishing alone won’t get you there. Most overnight successes are years in the making. As Roman philosopher Seneca is reported to have said, “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity.”
So if you have a dream you’re pursuing, keep plugging away. Keep working hard. Don’t be discouraged. And one of these days, when that dream comes true, you can smile and say, “Oh, what a beautiful mornin’.”
About the Author
Irene Hannon is the bestselling, award-winning author of 65+ contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels. She is a three-time winner of the prestigious RITA Award from Romance Writers of America and a member of RWA’s elite Hall of Fame. Learn more at www.irenehannon.com.
About the Book
When Devyn Lee, a principal dancer with a prestigious New York ballet company, returns home to Hope Harbor, widowed mill worker Aaron Steele pays no attention to the buzz about this famous dancer, until his grieving nine-year-old daughter takes a fancy to Devyn after she agrees to help with a fundraising show. But what are the odds that such an accomplished woman from the city could ever fall for a small-town lumberman with two left feet?
Did You Know?
Research continues to show that babies begin absorbing language, tone, rhythm, and emotional safety long before they can speak. Even before they understand words, they are learning from the voices surrounding them. This is why the words spoken over a child in the earliest days matter so deeply. Here are some reasons why speaking life from the beginning is so important:
A baby’s identity begins forming early. From the womb and through the earliest months of life, babies are already learning trust, safety, and connection through the voices that surround them. The loving words of a parent, grandparent, or caregiver help build a deep sense of security and belonging. Speaking truth such as God made you, God loves you, and God has a purpose for your life plants seeds of identity from the very start.
Early words help shape emotional and spiritual development. Repeated loving words create comfort, peace, and healthy brain stimulation. A child may not yet understand every phrase, but the warmth, cadence, and consistency of those words help build calm, connection, and confidence. Faith-filled words spoken daily can become a strong foundation for how a child eventually sees themselves and the world around them.
Speaking life strengthens family bonds and creates a legacy. Reading, praying, blessing, and speaking over a baby create sacred moments of closeness. These simple daily rhythms help parents and grandparents intentionally pass down faith, love, and truth. Over time, these moments become part of the child’s story and family legacy, reminding them they were loved and known from the very beginning.
There is never a moment too early to begin speaking life over the children you love. The words you whisper today can become the identity they carry tomorrow.
-Laine Lawson Craft, The Beginning of You