At one time, I would have never thought I had a problem with pride. I've lived a lot, done so many different things, and been given grace over and over as I zig-zagged through all my projects, jobs and people. To my peril, I have grabbed one (usually artistic) adventure after the other. It seems there's always the next one looming on the horizon and they seem to hunt me down. I don't even look for them and they are there. There's a lot of mental planning and worrying, waking up nights sweating about the details. Then there's the buildup to the event and I despair, just knowing it's not possible that it will actually happen like it should. This is when I start realizing that I am, indeed, proud. Because that's when the Diva arrives. She's intense, ridiculous and a little mad. Nothing else in the world matters, and oh, the drama... Somehow, in the end, the final product gets finished and life can resume once again. There might be pictures, often not, because in the Zone there's not time for pictures, only the production. I'm always struck at some point in the process by that moment of clarity, when everything begins to flow. The creative melds with the practical and the inspiration pours out like unbidden lava. It's definitely a God-thing, nothing you can train for. All the flurry of the before-and-after stops as the song sings itself. Those moments might just be addictive, because in the scheme of things it's a small portion of the time committed. All you creatives know what I'm talking about. I've said this many times, but I believe there are eternal purposes, in heaven, for the ways in which God makes believers with their various and sundry gifts and good compulsions. There are things which we know how to do that can't be explained. I love that about God. The evidence of the finger of the divine are all around us.
So acknowledging that, pride has to leave off. I sing to the great Creator and all of His wonder.
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