Written by Rachel, Beyond Editorial Team
It was 20 minutes to show time.
The crowd was settling in – a restless sea of chatter and expectation. The mic crackled sharply. You could feel the energy thrumming through the hall.
For 10 months, youths and volunteers from The Community Theatre (TCT) had poured themselves into this moment. They’d gathered week after week to conceptualize a performance around a message close to their hearts – the confusing, and often, overwhelming experience of growing up.
Then, right before the show, I heard that Jamie*, one of our volunteers, had stepped outside. The noise, the lights, the pressing crowd became too much for him. He’d found a quiet spot at a void deck nearby, sitting alone, trying to steady his breath.
I grabbed a bottle of water and made my way over, only to see Sam*, one of our youths, already heading in the same direction.
We reached Jamie together. Sat down on the cool concrete floor beside him. Just three people, side by side.
“Want to try sitting on the chairs?” Sam asked gently. Jamie shook his head, eyes squeezed shut.
“That’s okay,” she said, settling in cross-legged. “The floor’s not so bad. Good way to ground yourself anyway.”
Then she started to talk. About how her own heart was racing. How the chaos backstage made her want to run too. Her voice was soft, almost playful. And slowly, you could see Jamie’s shoulders loosen, the tightness around his eyes easing.
“This is our show,” she reminded him, a small grin breaking through. “It’s supposed to be fun. Let’s not let the fear steal that from us.”
And there it was – the gift of calm and steadiness in the middle of a storm. Given by someone who was nervous herself, but chose to show up anyway. Not with grand gestures but just with her presence.
At Beyond, we often say every person has a gift. Sometimes it’s obvious; more often, it emerges quietly, right when someone else needs it most. That day, Sam’s gift was her gentle courage. Her willingness to sit in someone else’s storm, even as she weathered her own.
The volunteers and youths of TCT come from all walks of life. Here, they’ve found a community that shows up for each other, no matter who’s supposed to be “guiding” whom.
And that’s what stayed with me.
Not the bright lights or applause.
But three humans on a void deck floor, learning that sometimes the best way to get through a storm is simply to be there together.
If you believe in building spaces where young people learn their gifts, where no one has to weather their storms alone, then we’d love to hear from you. Let’s see what we can create, side by side.