Another snippet to share

Written by jamie on February 3rd, 2011

After sharing my last post, I decided that I shall stick with first person present tense for my memoir writing. The feedback I got was that present tense was the best choice. Now that I’ve been attempting to write in it for awhile now, my brain is becoming more used to it. It’s getting easier.

Here’s another snippet I’ve been working on and fine-tuning.

The director straightens my robe and the red tie around my neck. It’s choking me a little, and I fidget, trying in vain to loosen it. The other 15 children with me are even wigglier, as I stand quietly and obediently, awaiting instruction. The frazzled choir director lines us up, pleading with us to stay still and in our places. She is mostly successful, as only the most rowdy children begin to move again. Although we are only vaguely aware of what we are about to do, we sense that it is important. And big.

We parade out of the back room and onto the stage. I can hear people clapping and “Awwwws” throughout the crowd. We line up in three rows and our director shuffles the stragglers back into place. She takes her place in front of the choir, and with a big grin on her face, reminds us with her hand motions to keep our eyes on her. The piano plays the intro, and we launch into the song that we have rehearsed over and over for months.

Standing next to the lit up Christmas tree filled with white crocheted angel ornaments, we sing Away in a Manger in our sweet little off key voices. I am not scared standing in front of so many people. I feel safe buried amongst all the other children. We sing loud, miss a few cues, smile our cute toothy grins, and the boy next to me waves to mom. The people applaud loudly when we finish.

I don’t know it yet, but this music and worship thing is going to become a big part of my life.

Did you know that “wigglier” is a word? I thought it was “more wiggly” and Word corrected it to “wigglier.” Say that five times fast.

The “frazzled choir director” comes not from this specific memory but from my time as a children’s choir director. Just speculation that this director probably felt like I did right before a performance. 🙂

 

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Memoir might not be so easy

Written by jamie on February 1st, 2011

So I have begun rifling through some old journals and I am trying to “relive” some old memories in an effort to write some type of book/memoir. Or at least some good blogs. I am choosing to focus on music and worship at the moment, so I am trying to pull together as many specific memories as I can on this topic. I have actually begun some writing on an early specific memory; my time in church as a young-un. I am starting with about as early as I can remember and trying to pull out as much detail as I possibly can. I have no journal entry from this particular memory, so I’m relying solely on my brain and what details I can dig out. I’m sure some of it is fluff, but hey, isn’t that what great writing is made of?

One thing that I’m discovering is actually a big challenge is deciding what verb tense to go with. I started with present tense, as I thought it would draw the reader in and make it more like it’s happening right now. But I’m finding it’s difficult to write in present tense (my brain automatically goes to past), and I think most memoirs are in past tense, so the writer can reflect back on the memory. If I’m writing about 4 year old me in present tense, should I use 4 year old words? It sort of sounds a bit funny using these big detailed words when I’m speaking from the point of view of a young child. So I thought maybe I should try both present and past and see which works best. Here’s what I’ve got:

Present tense:

With growing boredom, I slump down into the hard pew and stare at the tiny pencils and prayer cards in front of me. I breathe out a silent sigh of frustration, knowing I will chance a dirty look from Mom if I let it out loud.  My sister sits next to me, slightly less fidgety than me. I try to pay attention to the words the man in front is saying, but they make no sense. Words like salvation and repentance mean nothing to my four year old brain.

Finally, he asks us to turn to page 143 in our hymnals. I jump up eagerly, knowing the service is drawing to a close. I stand on tiptoe next to my mother, and peer intently at the Methodist hymnal in her hand. The organ plays some long, loud tones and I look around, wondering what is coming next. Everyone around me begins singing in unison, and I listen in awe. All I can see are strange black lines and markings on the page before me. It’s like some strange code that everyone knows but me. I stare more intently, hoping that the unfamiliar markings will begin to make sense and I will be able to join in. No matter how hard I focus on the hymnal, it doesn’t become any clearer. I simply listen to the angelic voices around me. There is an awe that seems to fall upon the room. I watch the faces as they sing. The women are smiling, as though at peace with the world.

Past tense:

With growing boredom, I slumped down into the hard pew and stared at the tiny pencils and prayer cards in front of me. I breathed out a silent sigh of frustration, knowing I would chance a dirty look from Mom if I let it out loud.  My sister sat next to me, slightly less fidgety than me. I tried to pay attention to the words the man in front is saying, but they make no sense. Words like salvation and repentance mean nothing to my four year old brain.

Finally, he asked us to turn to page 143 in our hymnals. I jumped up eagerly, knowing the service was drawing to a close. I stood on tiptoe next to my mother, and peered intently at the Methodist hymnal in her hand. The organ played some long, loud tones and I looked around, wondering what was coming next. Everyone around me began singing in unison, and I listened in awe. All I can see are strange black lines and markings on the page before me. It’s like some strange code that everyone knows but me. I stared more intently, hoping that the unfamiliar markings would begin to make sense and I would be able to join in. No matter how hard I focused on the hymnal, it doesn’t become any clearer. I simply listened to the angelic voices around me. There was an awe that seemed to fall upon the room. I watched the faces as they sing. The women were smiling, as though at peace with the world.

Now, I don’t know how good an example that is, as I simply took the same passage and flipped the verb tenses. Since I wrote the passage initially to be in present tense, it sounds funny to flip the verb tenses; like it just doesn’t quite fit. Perhaps I should rewrite it specifically for past tense. And maybe write a passage in four-year-old speak, with simple words and short phrases.

But it’s a start. Any thoughts?

 

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Happy Saturday

Written by jamie on January 29th, 2011

Things that make for a happy Saturday:

-Breakfast at my favorite restaurant. Coffee (even mediocre coffee) and an omelet with the hubby is my favorite start to any Saturday.

– Just enough housework to make me feel better about my messy, cluttered house.

– Driving my new(ish) car with a favorite CD and belting along on the highway.

– Going for a walk in a park with my hubby on a beautiful day.

– Afternoon at Starbucks to spend time writing with pumpkin bread and a vanilla latte in hand.

– An evening date still to be had with the hubby who’s been gone all week.

Definitely helps to unwind after a long, not so great week.

 

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Trying to make things happen

Written by jamie on January 27th, 2011

Sometimes I wonder if God has forgotten about me. I mean, I KNOW He hasn’t, but when I get in one of my little pity party moments and become so totally self absorbed, the fleeting thought crosses my mind. Then I remind myself of how big God is and how much He loves me and dismiss the fleeting thought. Then I just become frustrated that God is not working at the pace that I would like Him to. I mean, c’mon. I’ve got plans, I’ve got dreams, I’ve got ideas. Let’s get this moving!

I’ve been in one of those impatient moods lately. I feel as if there is some part of my life that isn’t totally fulfilled, that there are some steps that need to be taken to fulfill them. There are some steps I need to take to fulfill them. Rather than being patient and waiting on God, I try to move forward, inevitably to fall on my face.

I was in one of those moods yesterday, impatiently frustrated at waiting on God’s timing and determined to do something about it. Then I read this.

Now, I know that often Christians will contort some message to fit their life and situation exactly. And sometimes God really does use something to speak directly to your heart. Yesterday, I think it was the latter.

There is a fine line between waiting on God and doing my part. Waiting does not mean parking myself on the couch and not moving until I get the next word from God. Waiting means going through my daily life in humble obedience. It means prayerfully considering my next move. It means not getting all bent out of shape when what seems my next best move is not God’s next best.

When I was wrapping up my time with the African Children’s Choir, I felt strongly called to move to Africa to continue working with the organization. I prayed about it, and God dropped an opportunity in my lap. Or so it seemed. I was given a job offer to come to South Africa to help develop the Choir’s musical program there. I was beyond excited. It was perfect. I went home for a rest and vacation, and awaited the okay to come to South Africa.

Things kept getting pushed back. What was once March turned into August, then October, and so on. I did have a chance to return to Africa for a brief time, and took a couple weeks in South Africa to check things out. People cautioned me about the job offer. There was simply no work. When I was there, there was no peace. I could not see myself there. I tried desperately to make it work in my brain and the pieces just would not fit. I was crushed. This thing that I felt so sure that God had called me to was now falling apart. It was hard to know what to do with it.

What I did was go home. I took some more time to rest. I got a part time job. I kept pushing through life. I grieved the loss of South Africa. I healed.

Then I got engaged. It was not what I was expecting, nor where I thought I would be, but boy, was I excited.

I’m trying to remember that today. Waiting and trusting is hard, but I know that God has not forgotten me.

 

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