40 Days of Potential Garbage
I am recovering from wearing my church lady hat the past few days. I had volunteered to compile our church’s daily Lenten devotional, which isn’t as “Holy” of a deal as it sounds. Thankfully my partner in the project doesn’t need to wear a church lady hat. She is a real church lady. I am the moody David, throwing himself on the ground in agony in a Psalm while she is active, hyper even, being a “doer of the Word”
Slacker that I am, I had done hardly anything, including the most important thing I was bringing to the project. I still needed to write my own contribution. In typical form, I was putting it off until the last minute. I had played the editor card a week earlier. “I want to see what the other 39 contributions are before I write mine,” I said without making eye contact. The creativity card had been tossed out at least a month ago. I can’t remember what I told her, but I’m sure it was something like, “I have to wait until the Spirit moves me.”
Well the Spirit moved me alright the other morning. Without trying I woke up fifteen minutes before my alarm. What I was sure were amazing first lines, interesting thoughts, and right on metaphors were there inside of me rolling around all intact. For once they waited patiently. I wanted to go back to sleep, but the Spirit moved me all the wa
y to my desk. I wrote for 15 minutes. To my complete and utter horror, it came out as a poem.
I’m pretty sure it’s terrible. I don’t do poetry. I even interrupted Princess Sparkle’s virtual school day and asked her to read it for me. I had to be sure the work I had done in the name of the Lord qualified as a poem, and didn’t just look like one when I squinted my eyes and couldn’t read the words. She made a little mad face and told me she was jealous. Success! Evoking envy in the poet laureate of the family wasn’t my goal, but her jealously meant much more than a cheery, “It’s fine.”
Then I reread it. I threw up in my mouth. The most alpha of my host of obnoxious inner critics was already on the scene. “You’re stupid, ugly, fat and have morning breath. Go get the paper, make breakfast for the fam – you know, one with protein would be mighty fine for a change!”
Thankfully, time was of the essence. I had no choice but to ignore him. Even though he was persistent in his rippage, I sent my poem in like a big girl without an ounce of sender’s remorse. A few hours later I settled on my poetry debut being somewhere between envy-inducing and garbage.
So given that it’s almost Lent, I was thinking: I haven’t given up anything for Lent in a few years – okay, make that a few decades -but how about taking up something instead of giving something up? For forty days I could wake up a few minutes early. I wouldn’t be allowed to so much as tell myself I’m useless without coffee. I could strap myself to my desk and write. Technically, I would be “giving up” a little sleep.I have no clue how it would work if I try this technique again, especially if I add the often useless art of “trying” to the mix. Forty days of useless crap would be the worst thing that could happen. (“And that wouldn’t be anything new!” pesky inner critic adds. He’s trying to make it sound like he’s on my side.)
Even though she didn’t have to, the real church lady told me she liked my poem. I don’t believe her. Church lady wouldn’t tell me if she hated it. I probably said something ignorant and evil and she thinks I might burn in Hell.
Do you think Lent can be on a five day work week?
**Check out more creative Monday Musings at Maternal Spark
So do we get to read the poem or not? And if you need a Lent study buddy, let me know. I’m planning to stop thinking about prayer and exercise and *gasp* maybe try it?
So do we get to read the poem or not? And if you need a Lent study buddy, let me know. I’m planning to stop thinking about prayer and exercise and *gasp* maybe try it?
Dawn, NO. and it’s seriously too late to pull it now! Weird thing is, I kind of like it, but I’m still sure it’s bad as far as poetry.
Dawn, NO. and it’s seriously too late to pull it now! Weird thing is, I kind of like it, but I’m still sure it’s bad as far as poetry.
I didn’t think there was any ‘bad’ in poetry. Really. It is like art. It is merely an expression of ‘you’.
I know very little of any of these things, except there is no right or wrong, good or bad. Or, so ‘they’ say…
I didn’t think there was any ‘bad’ in poetry. Really. It is like art. It is merely an expression of ‘you’.
I know very little of any of these things, except there is no right or wrong, good or bad. Or, so ‘they’ say…
Thanks so much for participating in Monday’s Muse! And congrats on writing your poem. I’m always a little shocked when I write them myself
Thanks so much for participating in Monday’s Muse! And congrats on writing your poem. I’m always a little shocked when I write them myself
I want to read it too!
I’ve never given up anything for Lent because my church didn’t do that, and also because my attention span probably doesn’t cover forty days. I really like your morning writing idea – it’s an exercise in discipline- not so much the getting up, but the not allowing yourself to beat yourself up. Women are especially good at that. (I know I am.)
This was a great post.
I want to read it too!
I’ve never given up anything for Lent because my church didn’t do that, and also because my attention span probably doesn’t cover forty days. I really like your morning writing idea – it’s an exercise in discipline- not so much the getting up, but the not allowing yourself to beat yourself up. Women are especially good at that. (I know I am.)
This was a great post.
I wish I could write poetry. I wrote some when I was a teenager and they’re mostly about being pissed off that a boy didn’t like me.
I wish I could write poetry. I wrote some when I was a teenager and they’re mostly about being pissed off that a boy didn’t like me.
Pearls- it’s fabulous having such an encouraging friend – as in you, definitely not a “they”
HE Eigler, I enjoyed participating. I’m glad to have found you and your blog.
Fancy pants, I know! We’ve got to stop it with the beating up ourselves thing. For those few mins. in the am, ideally one can give themselves permission to do their own creative thing without all that interior flagellation. I’m curious to try it over Lent even though I’m worried about sustainability over 40 days!
Whisperingwriter, I always have been intimidated by poets and poetry. It’s something for smarter people and I never really “got it”. Mine from the past (not this one, of course
are all pretty angry and juvenile.
Pearls- it’s fabulous having such an encouraging friend – as in you, definitely not a “they”
HE Eigler, I enjoyed participating. I’m glad to have found you and your blog.
Fancy pants, I know! We’ve got to stop it with the beating up ourselves thing. For those few mins. in the am, ideally one can give themselves permission to do their own creative thing without all that interior flagellation. I’m curious to try it over Lent even though I’m worried about sustainability over 40 days!
Whisperingwriter, I always have been intimidated by poets and poetry. It’s something for smarter people and I never really “got it”. Mine from the past (not this one, of course
are all pretty angry and juvenile.
So you don’t think Church Lady would tell you if you had sinned?
Your poem was a gift of the heart, however hurried. And that is good enough.
So you don’t think Church Lady would tell you if you had sinned?
Your poem was a gift of the heart, however hurried. And that is good enough.
Glad you sent the poem. Vomit in mouth aside, courage is what makes a writer.
Share it with your fans…
Glad you sent the poem. Vomit in mouth aside, courage is what makes a writer.
Share it with your fans…