Happy Sacred Sunday!
A year and a half ago, on an ordinary evening, my husband, three boys and I sat around the living room chatting when I asked my eldest son a rhetorical question that would change our lives.
As we talked about schools, I turned to Orly and said knowingly,
“But you’re so happy at your school, aren’t you?”
Orly’s head hung low, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Actually, no. I’m not happy at all.”
That was the beginning of a series of long conversations as Orlando and I tried to understand what was happening with our son.
At seven, Orly discovered a love for acting, and we quickly realized he had serious talent. We supported him fully and gave him every opportunity to pursue this path. By 4th grade, he left his school to join a magnet theater program (a choice he made for himself).
One day, he came home with a phone number scribbled on his forearm.
“Mom, I need you to call this talent agency so I can audition.” He pestered me every day until I finally called and submitted his application. A couple of months later, he was in New York signing a contract. At ten years old, Orly was officially a professional actor. He worked hard and had some incredible experiences.
But by fifteen, things had changed.
The more we listened, the more we learned that all he wanted was a “normal” high school experience: a chance to play sports, try new things, and not be defined solely as “the theater kid.”
When I asked him why he didn’t tell us this sooner, he said, “I felt like this was the path I chose, so iI just had to suck it up.”
His passion had become his prison.
My husband took Orly by his shoulders and said, “Son, this is your life and you only get one. There will be times in your life when you realize you’re on the wrong bus. That’s when you get off the bus. You don’t get off because the ride is bumpy or hard — you get off when you know you’re going in the wrong direction. Is it time to get off this bus?” (Click here to listen to that podcast episode)
Orly nodded.
So, we started exploring new options. The following fall, Orly began 10th grade at a private school offering a more diverse and well-rounded experience. He still took advanced theater as an elective, but he also joined the football team, made new friends, and explored interests that didn’t revolve around theater.
It turned out that this well-rounded school, full of extracurricular choices, also had a devoted theater director and many talented students, some of whom Orly already knew from past productions.
Fast forward to today.
Orly is now seventeen and has found his love for theater once again.
But it’s a different love. It’s a free love, not a forced one.
Yesterday I spent the day with Orly at the Highschool Thespian District competition. We had a beautiful day of connecting with the people from his old school as well as enjoying our time with the people from his new school.
His school took home 3 top honor awards (which means their performance won in their category) which is a huge accomplishment. As I sat
back savoring this part of Orly’s life that I cherished all these years, I noticed this N2 moment. My heart overflowed with gratitude and sparks of bliss, just to be there with him, and knowing he was truly happy.
When we chose to change Orly’s school, we had no idea what would come next. We didn’t know if he’d walk away from acting altogether. We were letting go of the life we’d known for so many years, unsure of what the future would hold.
And yet, we trusted that changing schools and expanding his focus was right for him now.
So we took the leap—because this moment, right now, is all you truly have.
May this moment of clarity remind you that sometimes getting off the bus doesn’t mean changing your destination completely.
Sometimes it just means taking a different route, going at a different pace, or finding a bus that better fits who you are becoming.
Living an N2 life requires courage and faith that when you take aligned action in the now, the next right thing will find its way to you.
And that’s also what this week’s podcast episode is all about.
Thank you always for being here with me each week on this journey of life. I look forward to writing to you every Sunday.
With love,
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