Thursday, May 24, 2012
Lessons and Reminders
I've said a couple of times now that recording is tedious,
I spend about an hour and a half to two hours every day warming up,
Then I often spend about another hour and a half to two hours recording,
Singing the same exact song
Over and over again -
Usually seven to eight times.
That's not to mention the fact that those songs I'm singing seven or eight times in a row
Are the same exact songs that I've sung all year in preparation for this.
So, yes, it's exciting,
But it's also tedious.
That boredom -
It makes me forget my passion,
Forget how much fun this is.
In a sense, I know
How, when I'm with my friends, I never want to leave until we sing,
How I jump up and down - literally - at the prospect of a song,
How I love twisting those words together, pouring my heart and my prayers into them,
How I love singing anything, but especially those words I've written, because those are the words that came straight from my soul,
Those are the words I know best,
The songs that mean the most to me.
But I don't.
My heart -
It can't hold on to that in the midst of this,
So I've been praying.
In the midst of this dry spot, I've been praying,
If this is where He really wants me,
He'd remind me again.
Even though I shouldn't need that reminder
So I've been praying.
I've been fighting today,
Fighting to keep my thoughts on Him,
Fighting to really know Him,
Fighting to find joy in Him again,
Knowing I can't force Him to give that gift,
Praying face-down on the floor,
Kneeling over an open Bible,
Trying so hard,
But I have not strength in me,
And it doesn't even take a second for my mind to wander,
Go back to thinking about every lesser thing,
Stop trying to pursue Him.
I felt like a toddler
Searching for her daddy,
Beating on a closed door,
Not tall enough to open it,
And it's my fault -
It's my fault I'm here,
But I can't get back on my own.
I can't get back on my own.
And this imagery -
It puts words in my mind,
Those words that twist themselves together,
Coming up from my heart,
Caught up inside of me
And they need to come out.
They have to come out.
I need to find paper.
I just need to find paper.
Before I know it, I'm scribbling down words,
Furiously trying to get it all out of me,
Pouring my heart into these words,
Pouring my prayers into this work,
And this -
This is the mark of a songwriter.
If you're meant to do it,
You won't be able to stop,
Because something about the way a songwriter's wired,
Something about the way He made me,
Once those words start coming,
Once the song starts being written,
It almost threatens you.
It needs to come out,
It has got to come out,
It just plain has to come out.
It can't be kept inside.
It demands to be written.
You won't be able to stop.
Not writing for months, like I used to,
Writing every day, like I do now -
Both make me forget what inspiration is.
Both make me forget what it's really like to have a song welling up inside of me,
A song that has to come out.
I have to wait for Him to inspire,
And He has.
In the middle of the desert, He has.
Things I've learned in this dry spell:
1. How to fight - hard - to keep my mind on Him. And fail. Fail a lot.
2. How to call Him "Daddy", like that little toddler I am.
3. That He really did make me this way, that He still inspires, and that even this dryness can be an inspiration.