A LOT of new people have come through here recently. Hello new readers!
And hello old readers!! Hello everybody! 
It’s roll call time. Just checking to see who’s around, because we’re going to do some group stuff this month that I’m pretty excited about. (Don’t worry. It’ll be quick & painless & yes creative!)
But first:
There’s this really neat daily writing website out there, called 750words.com, and I signed up about six weeks ago to be more consistent in my morning writing routine.
And so it began. I’m great for 3ish days, then I slack off for a billion. Then hop back on the wagon for a few days, as is indicated by the Xs on the pic up there.
The intent is good. My intent. The site’s intent. Everybody’s intent. But, the follow-through is bad bad bad.
And I’m holding this up beside everything I’ve been reading about how to better sharpen and command our creativity. And, do you know what they all say? And, they do. They ALL say this:
They all say write every day. Create every day. Do this every day.
Every day.
Every day.
Every day.
It’s rolling through my brain like an echo (not the good kind). Like one of those haunted house creatures that are laughing at me.
Every day.
Maybe I’m crazy, but I consider myself a fairly serious amateur artist. Well, I did, until I checked in at my 750words.com page and the laughing echo started in my head and I had to ask: if I can’t even get the every day part of this down how am I ever going to really do this?
I’m just being honest here.
I mean, seriously, is consistency that important?
She said that I should set a timer and write the story of my last fifteen minutes of life.
So I did, and I nearly cried my way through it:
I get on the phone & call Drew. He doesn’t answer because he’s in small group. That’s ok. He knows everything that’s important anyway. But I tell him that I love him. And I tell him to either find another woman or adopt those kids or both… He deserves to love and be loved. And I wish it could still be me. But it can’t. And I’m sorry.
2 minutes.
And then I call my parents. And tell them that I love them. And that I’m proud that they are my parents and that I want them to stay in touch with Drew if they can. Even if he marries someone else. And, well, I probably call their home phone since they’re both at work (this is my last 15 minutes and I’m writing this as I see it). I leave them a message together. It would take too long to call each of them separately and there are a few more people I need to communicate with. This makes me feel like a horrible person. But it might be true.
4 minutes
Then I get on the email — cheap, I know. But I send an email to all the people that really matter to me. It has to be email because it’s fastest. And I can copy/paste and send to enough people at once.
This is what I say:
If you’re getting this, it’s because I care very much about you. My time is short. I apologize for this not being more personal. Just know that in the last minutes of my last hour, you were on my mind. Thank you for your friendship, love, and support. My life was made better because of you. It was made pretty near perfect, actually. You made it a better place. And I’m glad I knew you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t want to spend time with you. My introversion got in the way of relationships sometimes. I know that. But I want you to know that you are massively important to me. And that’s a big deal. So thank you. And, please, be yourself. That’s the greatest gift you can give the world. Because you were a gift to the world when you were born.
Ok. Then I hit send. Or at least try to. By now my hands are probably shaking. Even though it’s only been 8 minutes.
I’ve got 7 more to go.
What am I leaving behind? What do I have to show for myself? My songs. What is going to happen to my songs? Will Drew sort through them? Should I make a list of my favorites for them to pay attention to? Will anybody care? Or will the songs end up in the digital dusty cardboard box of my computer, just sitting there untouched. Probably. Whatever. I did what I could. And nothing happened. It’s over.
Who else? My nieces and nephews… Ok. I need to get something to them. I probably write this down on paper–whatever is around me. And I write it fast. And I tell them to obey their parents, because they have good parents and they love them. And I tell them that I love them and think they are amazing and my world and the whole world is better because of them. And I tell them that I really do believe they can do anything they want to do. And that’s not just a cliche (and one day, when they’re older, they’ll understand what cliche means) and that they have amazing personalities and can really do some good in this world. And I tell them to live it out as best they can.
I probably should type this out. Because writing takes too long. Change of plans. I type it.
4 minutes left.
This is the part where things get ugly. I review my life and my faith and wonder what’s about to happen. (Who wouldn’t?) It’s the whole life-flashing-before-my-eyes experience. Sheesh. I didn’t do some stuff right. I did other stuff ok. And I did great at a few other things. I need to pray. So I do. And I get all “I’m sorry” on God. And then, man, it all gets quiet on the inside. Not the peaceful all-is-well kind of quiet, but the panicky quiet. You know. When there’s too much in your brain and your body feels like it’s going to explode. And I brace myself.
2 minutes.
I sit with arms folded across my body, like I am right now. And I stare blankly into the future, or end, or crossing, just like I am staring at this blinking cursor on my computer screen right now. And I wonder what’s about to happen.
