This is harder for me than for Baylee. She doesn’t have the same drive as me, the same burning urge to star

I’m up on stage, and for the first time, there’s nowhere I’d rather be less. Mouthing the words as the choir sings, hoping my misery doesn’t show on my face, I just wish this whole performance was over.

“Yes, I too want to sacrifice, it’s what I believe, I’m striving to mirror the example I’ve seen…” sing dozens of voices around me, and despite myself, I’m drawn into the music, the lyrics, the bright lights, and the meaning of what we’re singing.

As Baylee steps forward for her solo — my solo — I expect the resentment to wash over me, but instead, a thought comes into my mind: real heroes, real stars, aren’t born onstage under the spotlight, surrounded by applause.

Real courage is found inside. In growing through struggles, in sacrificing willingly, in staying strong, positive, resilient, despite what’s happening around you.

I listen to Baylee, her sweet voice rising, each note pure and true. She sings the solo beautifully, but when she slips back into her place beside me, she squeezes my hand as if to say, this was yours, I’m feeling for you.

I’m flooded with shame. Baylee got it right, she didn’t let her solo go to her head. She also hasn’t let her minor role get in the way of enjoying production, hasn’t spent two months being negative and jealous, looking at everyone who has it better.

This is harder for me than for Baylee. She doesn’t have the same drive as me, the same burning urge to star. She doesn’t have sisters like mine, talented superstars who set the bar high.