Little Girl, You're in the Middle

Friends, I have wretched news to report: In my improv class, I fear I may be -- gasp! dare I say it? -- average. I don't get all the laughs or all the attention or all the praise. Sometimes I screw up. Sometimes I'm not even noticed at all. Tragedy! Abomination! Mortification! Frick-knickers!

I know you're as shocked as I am.

But really, it has taken a fair bit of mental and emotional discipline on my part not to get discouraged by the absence of good grades and gold stars. I'm a good little Lisa Simpson, accustomed to accolades from her instructors. When I don't get that, I wonder if I'm any good at all. I went into this class knowing that I'd have off days, and that one of the big reasons for learning improv at all was to practice taking risks and learning to make mistakes. I knew I was a beginner, and that I couldn't expect to master the art without putting in time and effort. And the last several years have taught me that some things just take time, and they cannot be rushed; like with physical growth, you can make choices that are helpful (eating well, getting rest), but they can't accomplish the work of years overnight.

I've learned big lessons in recent months about what I listen to -- what criticism is unfounded, what praise is worth absorbing. This is proving helpful in the silences, when I'm left with only my own assessments of my performance. I don't obsess over what might be wrong. I allow myself to see the pattern of what God is affirming in me, both directly and through other people: My humor, my gift with words, my performance ability... even physical beauty (but that's a whole 'nother blog post). So, I'm still enjoying improv, even though each class doesn't end with the instructor telling everyone to look to me as an example, or calling me off to the side to confide that he hasn't seen talent like mine before. (OK, no class has ended that way.) I'm just learning, and practicing, and waiting, and seeing where things go.

Although, hey, maybe this need for praise, applause, and approving laughter is proof that I was, indeed, born to be an actor.