I let out a squeal of joy as I hung up the phone. "Mom, I made it! I got a part!" I said. My dad had just called me from work after checking the cast list for the community musical "Fiddler on the Roof." My dad had first suggested that I audition for the musical two weeks earlier. At 14, I enjoyed singing and acting, but I had never tried out for a play. Dad convinced me to audition, suggesting we try out together.

I had arrived at the audition having no idea what to expect. After receiving a number to pin on the front of our shirts, we walked into the dim theater where we would be auditioning and found a seat. The directors taught us a song and dance, which we then demonstrated on stage. I performed the song well but wasn't nearly as successful on the dance. However, a few days after the first audition, I learned that I made callbacks. And several days later, Dad and I rejoiced together when we learned that he would be Avram the bookseller, and I would be a village girl.

For the next three months, we attended the two-hour daily rehearsals together, preparing for the spring production. Each afternoon, Mom dropped me off at the theater, and Dad arrived straight from work. Sometimes Dad and I had to wait in the theater while others worked on their scenes. During those idle hours, we talked. Dad listened while I chattered about all I had been thinking, and he'd tell me about his day at work. We also spent many hours on the stage singing, dancing and blocking scenes. The directors had cast us as a stage family so Dad was my father in the play. We learned to sing and dance such classics as "Tradition" and "Sunrise, Sunset." We soon realized we shared a love for the theater--for the magic of the experience.

Every night, on our 15-minute drive home from rehearsal, we rehashed the evening's most exciting events. We giggled, recalling the soldier who nearly cartwheeled into the orchestra pit or the 10-foot apparition, Fruma Sarah, who rose out of a trap door on stage and madly cackled her song, arms flailing wildly.

After three months of hard work, opening night arrived. After nearly two hours of putting on costumes and applying stage make-up, the orchestra began playing the overture. Dad and I took our places backstage. I smiled to see my usually clean-shaven dad with a bushy, newly--grown beard and make-up. "Good luck," he said, grinning. The show was a success. The actors remembered their lines, cues and notes, and the orchestra played beautifully. People packed the theater for all six performances.

Participating in "Fiddler on the Roof" is one of my best memories. Not because I had the best part or because I loved every part of the process. The reason I'll always cherish that experience is because of the time with my dad. Those hours we talked and laughed together built a lasting bond between us. Today I'm very close to my dad because of the time we spent together during those three months. My dad sacrificed his time to share that experience with me. He desired to deepen our relationship by participating with me in something we both loved.

As I look back on that experience, I think of how God the Father has sacrificed so that I can experience a close relationship with Him. He so desired a relationship with me that he sacrificed his only Son. At times I lose sight of the depth of that sacrifice. I get busy and fail to give adequate time to the Lord and miss out on the sweet fellowship we could share.

The more time I spent with my dad, the closer we became. And the time we shared together then has impacted our relationship ever since. In the same way, if I hope to experience a deep, intimate relationship with the Lord, I must spend quality time alone with Him. And the more time I give to Him the more our relationship will deepen and grow.

My father has taught me a lot about how I should relate to my Father in heaven. Participating in "Fiddler on the Roof" with my dad will always be a reminder to me that time spent with the Father is never wasted.