Missed My Cue (Again) — Karen Katulka

Did you watch the recent inauguration?

This isn’t a loaded question.

Believe me, I’m not here for politics. Never have been, never will be.

In fact, nothing tore me down more in 2020 than the political state of our country. It was chaos and oppression to the core.

And not only what happened on the streets, but also the chaos that ensued in our hearts.

People the world over felt comfortable being mean, spewing hatred, unasked for opinions and not having to be held accountable for it. And no, I’m not just talking about Donald Trump.

I digress.

If you did watch the inauguration, or any inauguration for that matter, despite your politics, the moment before the new president stands up to take office, you have to admit, is special. It’s history, full of meaning, pressure, responsibility. The fanfare quiets, the moment weighs heavy with anticipation as we await the newly appointed leader.

but this year. we really had to wait.

……

the quiet anticipation certainly built.

………

we were forced to sit and wonder what was happening next.

………….

uncomfortable glances on the stage indicated that someone, somewhere had missed his or her cue.

………………..

who was supposed to speak next?

………………………

finally, eventually, that someone was reminded. Maybe she forgot. Maybe someone texted her to say, “you’re up.” “ Go introduce the president.” “do something.”

But, regardless, she missed her cue.

It didn’t hurt anyone. The show went on. She popped up and did her next line, and we were all OK. But, it created some discomfort, confusion, wondering and uncertainty.

She missed her cue.

Have you ever missed your cue?

Hamilton

One of the greatest things that emerged from the pandemic, was the creation of time and space within my home. This meant we built things, laid bricks, finished our basement, created an eternal layer of dust on every ledge, but it also meant we watched Hamilton for the first time. And then, repeatedly, on repeat, over and over and over.

Anyone else have a crush on the entire cast? No, just me? Anyways.

The show is built on cues. The cast is constantly moving, breathing, dancing alongside one another. The rotating floor, the glider staircases. Hamilton’s looks off into the distance. Burr’s stares directly at you. Washington leads with assurance. Adams’ playing off of Jefferson’s character is a character in and of itself. Angelica’s tip toeing over and around her troubled heart makes us ache and feel.

Every step is coerced with its cue. Burr steps to the left, Hamilton appears on the right. Washington lifts his quill, Hamilton grabs it and writes.

It’s cue after cue after cue.

The cast, a panel of true professionals, didn’t miss their cue.

But what if they did.

Have you ever missed your cue?

COVID’s CUE

I’m just a working mom, who is trying to keep up. Surviving, not thriving, but also aware that this is the one life I get to live with my children. That’s my story. Up at 5am, teaching fitness or reading, sending my kids to school, working, picking up kids, dropping them to soccer, home for dinner and homework, bedtime chaos, dishes, back to bed. Over and over. Day in and day out.

COVID sent a curveball in 2020. An unexpected, stealth bomber that took over our lives. For all, the villain in our story. For many, the threat of both sickness and death. For most of us, the threat of loneliness, isolation, fear and hibernation. Maybe a few extra pounds to prove it, too.

An actual portrait of me standing with 2020.

But, we had no cue to prepare for COVID. Unlike flu season or soccer sign ups, we had no indication it was coming. Like an abominable force, it appeared. It took a heavy seat and hasn’t stood up since.

Had you known Covid was coming, how would you have been different?

Say, you knew last March, that your life was about to change for an entire year, what would you have done?

What happened in 2020 that you wish you could do over?

What cue did you miss?

Missed My Cue (Again)

What I like about a cue, is that I know when I’m supposed to step onto the scene, or grab the quill, get online to register or hug my kid. The cue is a gentle lob, a set up of sorts to alert you of your next step.

2020 never cued us. It was fast pitch after fast pitch after pitch. School closures, virtual learning, the threat of death from a foreign virus, rioting, looting, racism, the death of small business, the loss of income, unemployment, ulcers.

We had to respond on the spot. With emotion, fear, tears, anger.

It was Roger Federer hitting tennis balls at us over and over, while we held only a spoon for the return. In so many ways, navigating 2020 well, even with the best of intentions, simply wasn’t going to happen.

We simply weren’t prepared.

But now, as we level out, can you see better?

Do you know your cues yet?

Your Cues, Yours to Own

If 2020 taught me anything, it’s this. Every day, I have five cues. My four kids and my husband. Every day they wake up (thank God for giving them breath) and walk downstairs. That’s my cue.

To do what?

Well, that’s up to me.

The cues aren’t always easy. The needs from each one of these people are always different. Always there. But ultimately, what they need most is a mom and wife who love them unconditionally with grace and kindness.

I missed my cues almost every time in 2020. When they needed me most they found me responding with anger or frustration.

I can assure you, an angry mom means an angry home.

What are your cues? What cues did you miss in 2020?

You may not know where to find them. But, your cue hovers somewhere between those who need you and what you can give. Your cue may be your classroom or your barista who’s mentioned her sick mom. Your cue may be that thing that drives you to be an advocate for those who need you most. Your cue may be your infant baby who whimpers when she’s hungry or screams when she’s tired.

I don’t know your cue.

But, it’s waiting for you, and waiting for you to respond.

You’re the only one who can respond to your moment. And only you can do it the best you can. And if you fail, falter, or miss your cue completely — stop and take a deep breath. Pray, ask the Lord to show you a better way. Then, try again.

In 2020, we lost a lot of our composure. Many (or maybe just I) allowed the the heartache and headache of the past year to excuse new behaviors for the sake of survival.

That’s a lot of missed cues.

But we can tighten up the act, lighten our load, regain our composure, and respond with confidence to that which awaits you. Are you ready? It’s almost time for your cue. Don’t miss it.