WIP Wednesday: Grace

Work in Progress Wednesday!

I recently read an Instagram post saying that if a book has song lyrics in it, the reader/poster just skips over them.

Do you skip over poetry or song lyrics when they’re included in prose?

This is a draft of Chapter 4 and Hannah’s actual song in Hannah’s Song. Tell me what you think.

Chapter 4

I sing softly to myself,

“The Lord has filled my heart with joy.

 I feel very strong in the Lord...

This is my touchstone. First Samuel, Chapter Two. These were the first words I ever put to music in my head. I was in Vacation Bible School in first grade. I was bored and instead of staring off into space, I was staring down at my Children’s Bible. 

“There is no one holy like the Lord.

 There is no God but you.

 There is no Rock like our God.

I hated Vacation Bible School. I wanted to be home playing piano. Or Barbies. So I stared down at Grace’s prayer in my Children’s Bible and I imagined a melody. I played it on the imaginary keyboard in my head. 

“...The Lord is a God who knows everything.

 ...people who once were hungry now grow fat on food.

The woman who was unable to have children now has had seven.

 But the woman who had many sons now is sad.

Despite my name and my mother’s insistence, I do not consider myself religious. I turned my back on my Southern Baptist upbringing. I am spiritual, for sure; I believe in a version of God. Goddess. The Universe, maybe. As a devoted trekker, maybe it is Q I most firmly believe is out there. 

“...The Lord makes people poor,

 and he makes people rich.

He makes people humble,

 and he makes people great.

Flashing back to that church basement classroom, looking back with such clarity on the first melody I ever composed—and it makes me wonder. It makes me reverent. I sing this song only when I am alone. Only when I am upset. It brings me peace.

“The Lord raises the poor up from the dust.

 And he picks needy people up from the ashes.

He lets the poor sit with princes.

 He lets them sit on a throne of honor…

I’ve been singing this song for so many years, the words have genuinely lost all meaning. I could be singing the word “poultry” over and over and it would have as much meaning as this does. Or at least that’s what I try to tell myself. 

“The Lord destroys his enemies.

 He will thunder in heaven against them.

The Lord will judge all the earth.

 He will give power to his king.

 He will make his appointed king strong.”

But now that I’ve been trying to make a baby with my beloved for all these years, I am starting to doubt my doubts. When I was a little kid, I had no idea Hannah’s was a prayer of thanksgiving to God for helping her conceive. When I sang this song-–in my head, to myself, in the car, always alone–-I never once considered it a prayer. Or if I did think of it as such, it was Hannah’s prayer, never my own. 

This morning, though, it hits me in the feels. This morning I pull out my old beat-up paperback onion skin Student Bible from high school.

I read First Samuel, Chapters One and Two. And I read the commentary. Then I read them all again.

Then I put down the Bible and put down my guitar. I move to the floor and put myself into child’s pose (for what good spiritual woman doesn’t practice at least a little yoga?) and I pray. For the first time I can remember, I pray to a God-slash-goddess-slash-entity-slash-Q I’m not sure I believe in. I pray for a baby. Then I curl up into a ball right there on the floor and tearlessly cry (even my eyes are all dried up) myself to sleep in the middle of the afternoon.