What's funny is my mom took me to the theater for the first time

Dana Davis, in recalling the spark that first ignited her path, declares: “What’s funny is my mom took me to the theater for the first time when I was six years old, and I was just amazed by it. I just said, ‘Hey Mom, can I do this too?’ And so she signed me up for little theater classes, and I remember my first audition for a play when I was seven years old was for The Thankful Elf.” In these words, the seeds of destiny reveal themselves. The power of this memory is not in its grandeur but in its simplicity: a child’s heart, struck with amazement, dares to ask, “Can I do this too?”—and thus the journey begins.

The ancients often spoke of the call—that mysterious voice which awakens within a person and beckons them toward their true path. Dana’s call came in the dim lights of the theater, with a stage before her and dreams rising like stars in her young mind. That a mother should answer her child’s question with encouragement, guiding her into the world of performance, is a testament to the sacred bond between parent and child. For in that moment, her mother became not only a guardian of life but also a guardian of dreams.

This is the way of beginnings: often humble, often overlooked by the world, yet thunderous within the soul of the one who feels it. Consider how young Mozart, at the age of five, touched the keys of the harpsichord and composed his first melodies under the guidance of his father. Like Dana, he did not know then that he was stepping into greatness; he only followed the wonder that stirred within him. The story of a child enchanted by the arts is the story of humanity itself, for every craft, every calling, every destiny begins with a moment of awe.

Dana remembers her first audition for a play called “The Thankful Elf.” Though the name may sound lighthearted, it carries with it a deeper meaning: that gratitude is the heart of all beginnings. The elf who is thankful mirrors the child who is grateful for the chance to try, to learn, to take part. Gratitude is the fuel of growth, for when we are thankful, even the smallest opportunity becomes vast, and the simplest stage becomes a temple. This truth, though hidden in a children’s play, is eternal: the one who is thankful for little will be entrusted with much.

From her story we see how the paths of life are shaped not only by our own will but by the guidance of others. Had her mother dismissed her curiosity, the flame might have dimmed. But because it was nourished, the flame grew. This teaches us that no call is answered alone—mentors, guardians, and friends serve as midwives to the birth of dreams. The ancients said that “a single reed does not make music”; likewise, no destiny unfolds without the harmony of those who support it.

The lesson is this: listen to the stirrings of your soul, especially when you are young—or when your spirit feels young again. Do not ignore the amazement that rises unbidden, for it is often the voice of destiny. And when another comes to you, asking, “Can I do this too?”—be like Dana’s mother. Do not silence them with doubt but guide them with encouragement, for you may be the one who helps awaken a life’s purpose.

Practically, this means we must honor both curiosity and gratitude. When curiosity arises, pursue it with courage, no matter how small the step may seem. When gratitude swells, voice it, for thankfulness deepens every experience. Keep a record of the moments that fill you with awe, for they will guide you in dark times. Support the dreams of others, for in doing so, you weave yourself into the fabric of their greatness.

Thus, let Dana Davis’s words be remembered as a testimony: that a life of purpose can be born from a single moment of wonder, a simple question, and a mother’s yes. The stage may have been small, the role may have been that of “The Thankful Elf,” but within it was the seed of a life shaped by art, gratitude, and courage. And so may we all step upon our own stages, thankful for the chance to begin.