The Winner of the Oscar for Supporting Role

 

        I am an Oscar winner in a supporting role. It is in my nature, and it always has been as evidenced by my life and my career choices.

I grew up the third girl after two outgoing, extroverted girls (or so they seemed to me). My two older sisters paved the way for getting into trouble and “bossing” me around. I naturally followed their lead and learned to support them in whatever endeavors or shenanigans. 

Incredibly impressionable, I learned many things from watching their example. Forever a peacemaker, I leaned toward following them, assisting them, and just enjoying spending time with them. 

When I was about 12, I decided to hold a Muscular Dystrophy Carnival to raise money for the Jerry Lewis Telethon.

I don’t really know why, other than as kids we watched the Jerry Lewis Telethon every year. Inspired to do something for “Jerry’s Kids”, my behind-the-scenes, organizational planning, introverted self, took over and I planned the carnival.

I had the games picked out, the tent up over the swing-set for the fortune-teller, and the croquet set out on the lawn. My sisters and my cousin were planning to help.

Unfortunately, I did not excel at promotion. I did my 12-year-old best (back then you did not have social media and cell phones). We had a Citizen’s Band (C.B.) radio, and indeed a few C.B. friends came over.

Overall, it was a flop. However, I was thrilled to raise $50 for “Jerry’s Kids”. I was extremely proud of that! 

Once I graduated high school, I joined the Army where it is the epitome of being led. I was told what to wear, when to get up, when to eat, and what to do all day. There were very few decisions I made for myself.

I bloomed in administrative roles. I was a secretary or some kind of administrative professional for most of my adult life. I was proficient at performing all the tasks that kept an office running smoothly.

        When I married Ed, I became great at supporting him—I wrote a book on it! I could have received Oscars every one of those 29 years!

We became a great team, but I allowed him to lead. My “behind the scenes” tendency fit well with his boisterous “big picture” leading. 

        When Ed felt called to be a worship pastor, I supported his decision and the decision to move to another state. We thrived there, and I did everything in my power, outside of my employment, to support his role.

        Eight years later I supported his decision to become a church planter in the Chicago area. He bounced ideas off me, we planned things together, and I helped every Sunday, every event, and many service projects. We were a fantastic team—I consistently earned Oscars in the supporting role.

        He was the preacher, the leader, the debater. If someone had a deep, theology question or a religious crisis, Ed was your man.

        I was behind-the-scenes making phone calls, sending cards and letters, writing the newsletter and planning the events. I remembered the birthdays, the anniversaries, and the party invitations.

        He was the party.

        It was a long journey to get to where we were, and I loved this supporting role and all the things we had accomplished together. We were a great team!

Here is the problem with that—now.

        I have excelled in a supporting role all my life, and now, after Ed has passed, I have been thrust into the leading role.

        I did not ask for it—and I do not like it.

        I am not trained for it, and I find it very challenging and very draining. It is not my “sweet spot” to be here, and I have not won any Oscars for a leading role. Ever.

But does that mean I cannot learn to be there? And does that mean I’ll never win an Oscar for a leading role?

After Ed passed, I spent an incredible amount of time thinking and praying about what the future held for me. Even things like where to live, what to eat, how to sort through things, my financial future, and what I would do next.

But when I sat down to think about what I wanted to do, I drew a blank. Who was Kim now and what did she want to do?

Who was I, if I was not the wife of a church planter?

        I felt like Samwise Gamgee, the faithful hobbit friend of Frodo Baggins in Lord of the Rings. Ed and I had overcome things, traveled together and made a difference in the lives of those around us. 

But the ring has been destroyed in Mount Doom (spoiler??), and the dust has settled. So, then, what happens to the dynamic duo after that?

Although I know what happened to Ed, the question I had to ask myself was “What do I do now?”

Samwise started a family. It seemed easy.

        I wish I could say it was easy for me--it definitely was not. I had to overcome my “team” mentality, overcome my “supporting role” thinking that I had honed over a lifetime of supporting roles. I had to figure out, when you peel off all the layers, what did I want to do with the remainder of my life?

This is often the case for a widow or widower. Even if you are still working, your nights look incredibly different than they did with your spouse by your side. 

I spent a LOT of time reflecting on the things I had accomplished. The things that brought me joy and a sense of satisfaction.

One thing that stood out to me--a passion I had grown over many years--was writing. I had done some freelance writing, and I had written freelance for a couple of local papers. I enjoyed the process, and I enjoyed the end result. 

Ed had supported me through those things in the past and had always told me I was a good writer. I decided to continue that passion and see where it might lead me.

Writing might not bring about saving the world from evil dominion, or saving a community from their sinful ways, but with writing I am in the lead role. What to write about, how to write it, expressing myself through the written word--I discovered this brought me great joy and satisfaction. 

I recently saw the last movie in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, where the hobbits gather to say goodbye to Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf the White, as they boarded the ship to the Undying Lands. It was a tear-filled ending.

But then, Gandalf told Frodo, “It is time, Frodo.”

        The shocked hobbits looked at Frodo.

        With tears in his big eyes, Frodo explained he was going on the boat with Gandalf and Bilbo to the Undying Lands. 

I had forgotten this part of the story, and joined their tear-filled eyes as Frodo said his goodbyes to his faithful friends.

Then Frodo handed Samwise the big, red-leather bound journal, where Bilbo had written his story “There and Back Again”; and where Frodo had penned his “Lord of the Rings” life story. 

As soon as Frodo handed it to Samwise--waterworks ensued as Frodo said, “The last pages are for you, Sam.”

I could barely see the TV as the tears streamed down my face. My own life passed before my eyes as I mentally noted the parallel of my life to Samwise Gamgee’s. 

        I could easily envision Ed handing me the journal, and telling me, “The last pages are for you, Kim.”