The week is almost over. I like short weeks. This week seems especially short. I spent the first two days out of town working until 9 pm each day. Long hours will make the days pass quickly.
I’m looking forward to tomorrow. I’m a fan of the 4th of July. I enjoy the food, the camaraderie, the fireworks. This year will be a little different since we’re not doing any family stuff. We usually have a cookout, but my parents are out of town this year.
I’m not sure I’m excited about the rest of the weekend. Saturday will be fine, I guess. Jacob is planning a Lemonade stand at my parent’s house. There is an auction across the street from them, so he should make decent money. It should be fun.
Sunday I dread. I shouldn’t say I dread it. I’m looking forward to it. At the same time, I’d like to skip the entire day. I guess the best way to summarize my feelings on Sunday is anxious. Let me explain.
As most of you know I play guitar and sing in the band at our church’s alternative worship service. If you didn’t know, now you do. I guess I’ll give a little shameless plug:
Sunday mornings at 9am The Edge @ Edgemont UMC. One block off of Hermitage Dr. in Florence, AL. Featuring the band, First Aid for Choking.
This Sunday will be a little different. This Sunday we are playing a song that I wrote.
I’m excited and I’m scared to death! This is only the third time I have ever, EVER shared something I’ve written with anyone. Well, except for the drivel I write here week in and week out. As far as songs go, I don’t even let Misty read them.
I’ve been writing “songs” for a long time. I think I wrote my first one in 5th or 6th grade about my “girlfriend”. By girlfriend, I mean the girl who I talked to on the phone daily, but hardly said two words to in person. The song was horrible. I wish I could find it. On second thought, no I don’t.
It was a long time before I wrote anything else. I wrote several bits of songs/poetry through high school. I still have some of it. Some of it was OK; most of it was crap. In my first year of college I wrote a lot. It is dark, dark stuff. I was obviously depressed. Lots of references to post-apocalyptic earth, death, and general destruction and chaos. I still have all of that stuff.
When Misty was pregnant with Jacob I wrote a song about being a Dad. I thought it was lost until Misty found it recently. That is the only other bit of my writing I have shared. That experience is part of the reason I’m anxious about Sunday.
*Crazy Alert* (I’m going to start giving one of those just before the crazy comes out.)
I read it at a banquet we held for the Youth parents when I was working at St. James. That song was not good. After I read it a few people told me how good it was. It wasn’t. At all. It kind of made me mad that people said it was good. I knew better. At that point I knew that from then on when I show someone a song I wrote, don’t tell them I wrote it. It’s the only way to get an honest opinion.
While I was working at Broadway UMC in Paducah I dared to share another song. I wrote a praise song for the youth based on our Vision Statement. I sang it on a Junior High retreat. This time I knew better than to tell who’d written it. They hated it. Finally, an honest opinion! That was the last song I shared with anyone…until last night.
We practiced the song last night. I cannot bring myself to say it was good. I don’t know why. I did really enjoy playing it with the band, and everyone seemed to like it. Still I’m nervous as hell.
Here’s my real dilemma. Do we tell the congregation that I wrote the song? Do we tell them before or after the song?
*Super Crazy Alert*
I need validation! I want to be told what I’m doing is good. Then when I get it, I don’t believe it. They just don’t want to hurt my feelings. I want people to like this song. I want to know they like the song. I also want them to truly like it. Not because I wrote it, but because it is good (if it is good). That’s why I don’t let Misty read my stuff. If she says she likes it, she’s supposed to. She’s my wife, and she’s supposed to be supportive.
I want to know if I’m doing a good job. One of the reasons I’m not doing Youth Ministry anymore was a lack of validation. The “atta-boys” were few and far between. It’s easy to get burned out when you’re not encouraged.
I have to learn to take a compliment. I don’t take them well. I get embarrassed. (It’s one of the few things that will truly embarrass me.) It makes me feel like an attention whore. But when I don’t here the encouragement, I get depressed and lose all motivation to do well.
That’s the insane paradox that is my psyche. I need to be told that I’m doing a good job, but when you do I’m completely mortified.
To summarize, we’re playing a song I wrote this week. It might be good, I can’t honestly say. If it is good tell me, but don’t be offended if my response is less than enthusiastic. If it’s not good, keep it to your self. I’m medicated, but my prescription is running low.
I’m glad I have this outlet. It’s much cheaper than therapy.
No comments:
Post a Comment