April 14, 2025

In our family, we live by a few simple rules:

School is your job.
Stay active.
Do something in the arts.
Learn the value of money.
Be willing to work hard.
Be kind.

These aren’t just sayings—they’re the framework we try to give our kids so they can grow into well-rounded, grounded, and inspired people. So, when our daughter, Shae, came to us and said, “Hockey isn’t for me,” I didn’t panic. (Okay, maybe my heart broke a little.) But I knew the most important thing wasn’t the specific activity—it was the commitment to being part of something bigger, something that challenges you and helps you grow.

So, I said, “That’s okay. But you still need to be active. You still need to be part of a team.”

She didn’t answer right away. But not long after, I took her on a school visit to see a local production of Annie. Sitting in the audience, her eyes glued to the stage, she turned to me and asked, “Mom… is that a team?”

I smiled and said, “That sure is.”

That was the spark. She started preparing to audition for Seussical Jr., a show she hadn’t even seen yet. All she knew was that she wanted to be a part of that team—a team that sang, danced, and told stories under the lights.

Shae earned the role of Who Family Member Number 5. And with that, our family entered a whole new world—one of call times, costumes, cast lists, and rehearsals. Twice a week, two hours at a time, for nearly seven months, we showed up. She worked hard. She laughed, stumbled, practiced, and grew.

And when opening night came, and the lights went up, something incredible happened: Shae shined.

The power of theatre is hard to describe if you’ve never experienced it up close. It’s magic. It’s discipline. It’s joy, fear, pride, and vulnerability—all rolled into one. It teaches kids how to listen, collaborate, express themselves, and show up for others. Just like hockey. Just like any great team.

Only on the stage, Shae found a different kind of strength. A place where her voice mattered—not for how loud it was, but for how true. A place where she could stretch, imagine, and belong. And she is hooked.

As a parent, I couldn’t be prouder. Not because she nailed her lines or hit her marks (though she did). But because she found something that lights her up. Because she kept our family values close—trading skates for scripts, yes—but never letting go of what matters most: being active, being involved, and working hard with heart.

I’m excited for her journey in the arts, wherever it may lead. And more than anything, I hope she never dims her light. Because when it comes to passion, there’s no single path. Sometimes the rink leads to the stage, and sometimes being part of a team means wearing sparkles instead of skates.

And honestly? It’s just as beautiful.