Breakthrough. David Nurse

your talent, your team, and your purpose. Whether someone gave us our first chances to shine because of our extraordinary talent, our intensive training, our physical appearances, our last names and connections, or simply because we were standing in exactly the right spot at the perfect time, it was up to us to make the most of those breakthrough music video opportunities and turn them into lasting breakthrough roles.

Admittedly, I didn't. I wasn't that interested or invested. Even though I grew up with the bright lights of Hollywood in my backyard and had my first breakthrough opportunity in grade school, I didn't dream about seeing my name up on marquees. Actually, my most notable childhood dream was of my future husband. He wasn't anyone I knew; I didn't even have a super clear view of his face. But I would always remember his kind, bright golden‐green eyes.

      No, it took another twelve years before I was bitten by the acting bug. I'd already earned a business degree and was on the path to becoming a lawyer, so when I set my sights on securing my own Hollywood star, I needed to hustle and build my momentum back up from scratch. I needed to prepare my life for the next breakthrough opportunity; without a guarantee or a system (much less a well‐constructed formula!), there were times when getting ready for the breakthrough was a real struggle.

      November 2017 was rough. I was stuck in the revolving studio doors, auditioning for pilots I rarely heard back from. I'd taken over casting an entire project for a friend while she was on leave, so I was working endlessly long days. I was trying my best to produce a true story movie with zero experience and no real guidance or connections. And I was being treated for Lyme disease, which, thankfully, was caught early, but nevertheless struck me hard. Time and energy were at a premium.

      I was memorizing another scene for an audition the next day when I got a text from a guy I'd known in college—sort of. Rich had been on Pepperdine's basketball team while I was on the dance team, so we'd really more known of each other. I had helped Rich in the past by answering questions for his younger brother about how to get into acting, but we'd never been great friends and we hadn't spoken in two years. I'll admit it—I groaned when I read, “Hey Taylor, I have a buddy who wants to get into acting. Would you be able to meet with him and give him some pointers?”

Not one part of me actually wanted to meet up with the type of oblivious stranger who asked friends of friends of acquaintances vague questions like “How do you get into acting?” I had less than no time and I was well into an energy deficit, and I couldn't imagine how to find more of either one to politely explain what it really takes and how rare it is to even get a role in a show.

      But I'd committed to living in service mode, to giving whenever I could. I spent day after day asking strangers to give me a shot, to help me improve, to stake their success on my efforts—and if I couldn't find the time and energy to serve this stranger who was asking the same of me, how could I keep asking it of others? I agreed to meet Rich's friend for coffee.

      The appointed date and time rolled around, and those gallant thoughts were as wiped as I was by twelve hours of casting and watching auditions, followed by an important meeting about the film I was attempting to get off the ground. I would never make it out to the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf in Venice on schedule, and I just didn't have the energy or time to give. I was scripting out my cancellation text in my head while chatting with my mom, and I mentioned it to her.

      Mom disagreed. “Taylor, you should go. You gave him your word. You can really help him out and give this guy direction.”

      Mom was right. Mom knows best. I gathered up the very last of my energy and headed out to honor my word and live in service. I psyched myself up on the way over—maybe something good would come of this. Maybe something great. Maybe the stranger would be extraordinarily talented. Maybe he'd be lucky and get his breakthrough opportunity soon, and he'd kindly remember the exhausted lady who'd helped him prepare to nurture it. Sure, maybe I was just going to be true to myself, my word, and my service, which was more than enough in itself, but you never know—maybe this was my next breakthrough opportunity in disguise.

I had no idea what the stranger looked like or even his full name, but as I walked across the street towards the coffee shop, I recognized him right away. I'd seen this man before; I knew his eyes. They'd never been up on the silver screen, but I knew them as well as I knew my own. My heart skipped a beat as it recognized the breakthrough opportunity in front of me. This was the man I'd been praying for and dreaming of since I was eight years old. I didn't know his last name yet, but I knew someday we'd share it.

      I apologized for being a few minutes late, and explained what I had been doing the past week and how long I'd been working on acting‐related things that day. When David responded, “There is no way I could do that,” I smiled. As I'd suspected, this stranger had no chance of becoming an actor. Even though I had not walked into the breakthrough acting opportunity of my life, I wasn't mad and I certainly didn't feel like I'd wasted any of my time or energy. I'd walked into the breakthrough love of my life. I couldn't have been happier.

      It took several weeks of dating for David to admit that our first meeting had been a blind date—a complete setup. But I already knew the biggest breakthrough in my entire life didn't happen by accident. It wasn't just two random strangers meeting. David and Rich may have colluded, but there was more to it than just that. I had prayed and prepared myself to meet David for nearly twenty years, living in the service mode and using the gifts God gave me. And when that wasn't enough, when I almost canceled, I had the support and counsel of my mom. My suspicions were correct: this “stranger” was never committed to doing the work it takes to break through in acting. He was never interested in acting at all. But Mom was more right: I did give this guy direction … and he gave it to me. Now, we drive each day towards bigger and better breakthroughs, together.

David and I got married on June 23, 2019, and the first six months of our marriage were a flurry of breakthrough opportunities, personally and professionally. Though we were frequently on the road, even our “couch time” was productive. I'd wrapped up ABC's The Fix just before our wedding, so I prepared auditions for other even bigger roles; David sat beside me and wrote his first book, Pivot & Go. Knowing I was sharing top‐foreword billing with Jeremy Lin, I poured everything into introducing my brilliant husband's debut book to the world.

      When David asked me to write a foreword for this one, his second book, I cringed. What more could I talk about? Hadn't I covered everything David is to me in the first foreword? What could I possibly say about breakthroughs in early 2021? The pace of our life changed dramatically in 2020, along with the pace of the rest of the world. Suddenly, my production schedules were postponed and shifted; David's speaking engagements were called off. We were told to sit tight—worldwide all non‐medical breakthroughs were postponed indefinitely, if not canceled altogether.

      But while 2020 may have initially seemed like a slowdown in breakthrough opportunities, David and I actually found and created richer and deeper ones. David created virtual speaking engagements to inspire, motivate, and serve people across the globe dealing with uncertainty and fear, and he wrote another book; I found my head filled with original stories and characters I wanted to see on screen, and I dedicated myself to collaborating on scripts and pitching them to production companies and networks. We had time we never would have imagined to dedicate to our own growth, our growth together, and the growth of our team—including the addition of our puppy, Pivot. (Yes, he is named after the first book.) We had opportunities we could not have foreseen to act in service to our struggling communities. We had time to really reflect on our purpose.

      Sitting on the couch with Pivot one night at the height of quarantine in September 2020, David turned to me and asked, “Am I the same person I was when I met you?”

I realized he wasn't the stranger I met at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf; he wasn't even the person I married the year before. Neither of us were. Though we will always be introducing ourselves to each other, and though we will always be soulmates, we are different now. We learn more and fall deeper in love with each other every day. Sure, I've fallen harder for him as we've traveled to amazing places together, but I've also fallen harder for him realizing he will never take the time to fold his clothes—that our dressers will always be stuffed