Inside a production of Mamma Mia 

While navigating life’s challenges. 

By Sherrie Kleitch

 

June 6, 2026

 

The adventure started months before the first run-through of the script and music.

 

My hubby came running downstairs with lyrics on his phone and a command to Alexa to play Mamma Mia!by ABBA. I sang through the song—I wasn’t very familiar with it at that point—and Eric excitedly told me that a local civic theater would be putting on the production. He immediately pegged me as the perfect Donna.

 

That kicked off several months of watching the movie and singing along with every soundtrack I could find. I had always wanted to be part of a stage musical. As a child, I even fantasized about dancing. It wasn’t something my parents particularly wanted me to pursue, which only added to the appeal.

 

The discovery of Just Dance was a game changer. Learning dance moves of all types as part of our family’s workout routines was a blast.

 

In the three years before trying out for the musical, I had the opportunity to lead vocals and dance for our church’s Vacation Bible School. It was both challenging and enjoyable, especially as my kids joined in and learned the choreography too. The original plan was for all of us to attend auditions together and see if the kids might land roles as well.

 

Life had other plans.

 

While perhaps watching a little too obsessively for audition information to be posted, I noticed another opportunity: an Ability Arts theater class open to anyone interested in being part of a stage production.

 

Our oldest daughter, Krista, is autistic and had often found herself lost in the shuffle after we fostered and adopted our three youngest children. We were immediately welcomed, and Krista and I had an amazing time reading for a variation of Peter Pan. By the next practice, we had brought all of the kids along, and they were given performing roles as well.

 

The environment is wonderfully low-key, with very little pressure and plenty of support to help actors succeed during performances.

 

Back to auditions.

 

Keep in mind that I regularly sing at church, including leading praise and worship. As I’ve often told friends, there has never been a time in my life when I haven’t experienced nerves before stepping on a stage.

 

My first solo came at age 4 when my mom selected an entire song from our local Bible bookstore and taught me every word. I memorized the whole thing.

 

Then there was my first Christmas play, where I proudly delivered the line, “Grandpa, I think this has been the best Christmas ever!” Afterward, I had to kiss someone I barely knew on the cheek. Fortunately, my parents were in the production too, which gave me all the confidence I needed.

 

Even with all that experience, auditions were nerve-wracking.

 

Stepping into an entirely new environment where you don’t know anyone is uncomfortable at the best of times.

 

The audition process was lengthy—I was there for four hours—and included group singing, solo singing, learning and performing choreography, and cold readings from the script.

 

Considering the health challenges of recent years, my body handled it better than I expected. Maybe it was the excitement. Maybe it was the adrenaline.

 

Chronic illness stops for no one, and throughout the audition process I questioned whether I could realistically follow through with such a demanding production if I were cast as Donna Sheridan.

 

In the end, I did not receive a lead role, but I was selected to be part of the ensemble. This production relies on a large group of performers to sing, dance, and support the lead cast throughout the show.

 

As I sat through the first read-through, I found myself wrestling with mixed emotions.

 

Part of me had wanted the lead role to prove something to myself. I feel like I’m running out of time.

 

How long will my body allow me to do the things I’ve always wanted to do? Will I still be able to travel the way I’ve dreamed of? The last few trips have been painful and exhausting, often requiring weeks of recovery and triggering autoimmune flares.

 

The specifics of my medical conditions aren’t especially important. There are so many overlapping symptoms and diagnoses that I’ve jokingly collected doctors and specialists the way some people collect Pokémon.

 

But those questions linger.

 

Pondering all of these challenges eventually brings me back to the love and support of my husband, Eric, who understands me better than anyone else on earth.

 

Because he believes I can do this, I am learning to believe that I can do it too.