Have you given much thought to dying?

“Cut!” A sense of exhilaration and accomplishment flooded through Taylor’s entire body as the Sun dropped behind the mountain and the reflection faded from the lake. His mind started to rapidly regress through time as he faintly saw and heard the entire film crew jumping, shouting, and clapping for what felt like would be one of the great movies of all time.

Suddenly, he found himself in an unusual state of mind and feeling a loss of physical control as his body slumped in his chair.

“What is happening to me, where am I going, why now at this momentous moment in time?”

Looking at his left foot, his mind instantly flashed back in time. He could see the tip of the nail protruding from the top of his foot which was attached to a small piece of wood. Pain dashed up his leg and his body started to shake, and he fell into the lawn chair in the front yard of his parent's home, leaving the lawn mower behind.

He was sensing the situation as if a drone was hovering over his experience and the camera was focused downward on the event, yet he was feeling and hearing all that was taking place.

The pain was beyond what he had ever experienced and now seemed even more amplified, and the agony grew. It seemed like he was experiencing more pressure than originally, and he could sense his left leg's weakness and anxiety building in his chest.

“Why am I no longer in control?”

Taylor had always dreamed of working in the film industry, and today he was living that dream as a production assistant and was absorbing every moment in the action of this major production. The excitement and pounding of his heart were puzzling, confusing, and moving in a mysterious direction.

Taylor’s mother, Jill, came running out of the house after hearing the repeated, intense, agonizing screams.

"What in the world were you doing?" she exclaimed.

More screams and facial agony as blood dropped on the lawn. Taylor blurted out, “Get me something for the pain.”

Jill ran into the house and remembered that some of her previous Tylenol 4 prescriptions were still unused, so she grabbed a couple—okay, she took three this time with her and a glass of water. She thought that since Taylor was now 27 and not a baby, surely his body could handle that amount.

Upon reaching where he was sitting, she said, “Take this.”

Taylor appeared to be settling down and calmer, and it looked like there was no more blood dropping to the lawn, which was a good sign, she thought.

“Let me get some other clothes on and I will drive you to the hospital,” Jill said.

“NO! … I would feel much better if you could get me a bench or a chair, I can rest my leg and foot on it and feel much better,” replied Taylor.

A chair was brought to him.

Bill, Taylor’s father, arrived home from work a few minutes later and rushed over to take a look having received a call from Jill earlier.

“Taylor, stay still as I pull out the piece of wood, and the nail will come with it and then we can take you to the hospital,” Bill assertively directed.

“Don’t you dare touch my foot! I am feeling a lot better, and no one is going to touch my foot. I wouldn’t mind some lunch though, as I missed breakfast.”

Lunch was brought to him.

Taylor had recently grown more at ease with his cinematic duties, which included helping the cinematographer set up the shots, making sure the performers had what they needed, and maintaining the seamless operation of the set. Although he was a minor cog in the elaborate machinery of filmmaking, he delighted in the chance to contribute to something greater than himself.

However, now his mind switched to a neighbor across the street who had also heard the screams and had been watching all that was taking place through their window and he decided to see what he might assist with to move things along.

Mr. Jackson, a local Social worker, and counselor, greeted his neighbors with, “Howdy, neighbor! The screams caught my attention, and I noticed what was happening and thought maybe I could be of help in some way, he said as he came closer and noticed what had happened to Taylor’s foot and asked. “What happened?”

“Well, I stepped on a small piece of wood that had a nail in it and am now on my way to recovery,” Taylor said, as he took another bit of his bacon, tomato, honey mustard, and lettuce sandwich.

“It appeared like your dad, was about to pull the wood and nail out of your foot, and no doubt your parents would then be taking you to the hospital, is that correct?” said Mr. Jackson.

“I do not wish to go through the pain and agony of having the nail pulled out of my foot just yet, I am feeling quite all right at present, but it would be wonderful if I could get carried into the house and sit in the living room where I could watch TV and use my cellphone.

Bill and Mr. Jackson carried Taylor to the living room.

“Taylor, as I look closer, the nail is rusty, and there is dirt on the wood. These factors could lead to infection by allowing bacteria into the body, leading to tetanus infection, which may lead to the need to remove a limb and can prove fatal.

Have you given much thought to dying?

Your choice.

If you do not act fast and get to the hospital in time, the consequences may not be pleasant. Are you prepared for the consequences?” said Mr. Jackson.

In the hospital, the doctors and nurses gathered in the emergency room, hovering around Taylor as the doctor inserted a longer needle than Taylor had ever seen before to freeze the area to be worked on. The doctor said, “It is a good thing you came right away to the hospital. We occasionally see people coming for help when it is too late. A wise person once said, ‘Dreaming or pretending life’s problems will be solved by doing nothing, is a killer, unless action is taken. I will have to cut...”

The director called again, “Taylor! Taylor!” This time, his voice was tinged with curiosity. Everyone on set turned to look at Taylor, confusion etched on their faces. The director approached him, studying him intently.

"What just happened?" Taylor managed to utter it in barely a whisper.

Taylor's mind raced with questions as he straightened up in his chair. Looking at his left leg he noticed there was no nail, no bandage, no pain, and no hospital. Was what he just experienced real?

The director, Max Fredrickson, said, “Taylor, you know that I have been observing you since you started with the company and have appreciated your suggestions, insights, and adaptability in working with the crew to meet needs on the set, especially often in times of emergency. I am not sure where you acquired such an ability to make choices quickly, but it has been of exceeding help over the last few months.

It may surprise you that I even went back to your résumé to see if anything was listed to reflect this characteristic and could only find a list of job duties under each employment experience. You possess a special ability to perceive the subtle nuances of a scene, to see beyond the surface, and to understand the heart of the story being told. Do you have any thoughts as to why you failed to mention this?”

Taylor realized, from what he had just experienced and the director’s comments, that his destiny was not merely to work behind the camera, and he caught himself starting to drift off again. Accepting that becoming a storyteller himself could be a reality, he remembered, “A wise person once said, ‘Dreaming or pretending life’s problems will be solved by doing nothing, is a killer unless action is taken.”

“Mr. Fredrickson, possibly I was a bit unsure of myself in creating my résumé and turned to a professional résumé writer, and I purchased with my eyes and not with my heart the fancy colorful design not understanding the power and impact of well-defined content to tell my own story in the résumé.

Am I now hearing a new job offer is being proposed from you to learn more about the craft of screenwriting, honing my skills in creating compelling narratives that reach the hearts of audiences by working with you?”

“Exactly. I wish you to join me in cinematic magic, bringing out the true essence of characters and their journeys with precision and artistry.” said the director.

“Do you mind if I take a week to think about it? Just kidding, I am all in. When do I get started?

“Will, a salary of $71,500.00 work for you? said the director.

“Isn’t that a bit high for an entry-level screenwriter? said Taylor.

“Yes, that may be the case, however, I still may need you from time to time on the set to take care of a few other things as well. Remember, all expenses are paid. Plus, all the medical benefits and vacations.” replied the director.

“I accept,” said Taylor.

A year and a half later.

“Cut!” A sense of exhilaration and accomplishment flooded through Taylor’s entire body as the Sun dropped behind Old Chief Mountain and the reflection faded from the lake. The entire film crew was jumping, shouting, and clapping for what felt like it would be one of the great movies of all time and the director came over to give Taylor the biggest hug he has had in his lifetime.

Action is not only the evidence of faith that is needed in films but is the engine of life.