Sometimes I Feel Like I’m Standing in the desert
My friend Spencer penned this line for our song “I’ll Keep Walking,” and it echoed through my mind constantly last week, taking on new and deeper meaning as my family and I baked in an autumnal heatwave in the Sonoran Dessert. Temps were between 105-110 degrees and the air was so dry that our skin started cracking within hours of landing.
It’s hard to believe that anything can stay alive, much less thrive, in the desert at all. It felt like a reflection of the condition of my heart in dry seasons…longing for breakers of living water - the kind that instantly refresh the soul - to crash over me, to refresh and change me. To quote my friend Justin Carlson in his song “Cold Spring” (which has been living rent-free in my mind and heart for months):
“Give me some relief/Even a small drink of mercy/Lord quench my unbelief/With a long drink from your cold spring”
But even in the desert, there were signs of life everywhere - strong, resilient plants and animals thriving in the midst of a parched landscape. It hasn’t rained there in months, but the flora and fauna that still stand are mature. They have been nourished and sustained by what was provided and will make it until the monsoon comes and the parched desert transforms into a beautiful garden.
And for my heart and perhaps yours, I wait and trust that in seasons where the the living water we long for feels so distant - that the giver of life is building something mature and resilient in us.
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. (Psalm 63:1 ESV)
Listen to “I’ll Keep Walking” here: https://open.spotify.com/track/4n6MkoscLlc7y4RkzMrNnu?si=54aac4e95c1f4e88
Listen to “Cold Spring” here: https://open.spotify.com/track/3zVnBlr1MGYmBTm2JBWtxP?si=61c48bc6ca5d4be8
New Album Coming 11/8/24
“Longing for the Garden” (at the end of election week)
In case you haven’t heard, I have a new record coming out in about 6 weeks. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking, releasing a concept album about grief and healing at the end of election week. I am either brave and my timing is poignant, or I’m a fool. Whichever it is, “Longing for the Garden” is coming November 8th.
I’ll talk more about the album in the coming weeks leading up to release day. For now, I’ll say that each song on the record has a story.
I’ll share a story now - not one that directly affected/inspired a song on the album, but one that helps me think about why I continue to do what I’m doing - writing, arranging, practicing, scheduling studio time, recording, producing, hiring, promoting, distributing - making music (Important note: these things are not done alone, but with the help/partnership of so many wonderful people). Music is a powerful tool, helping engage parts of us that are not always easily accessible - for making sense of things that were previously locked up and undecipherable.
I was co-leading a prayer set with a friend on a Tuesday morning. We were in this flow/improv scripture-singing moment. He sang a line from Psalm 139 about the Lord’s care for us that was so tender, and I instantly became a weeping mess at the keyboard. I was taken back to a moment in my story that I had struggled to confront, a moment that needed to be approached with kindness. It felt as though a part of my heart had become a dry patch of ground - hydrophobic, perhaps, not allowing water in to nourish it. But that line of music came out and the garden of my heart cracked right open, and it was as though water flowed into those cracks and nourished my soul. It was surprising and a little bit painful, but it was beautiful, and it was healing. The tears fell for a long time that day, as they still do at times when I remember that moment. And it started with a song.
I hope the songs on this album and the stories they tell will help you access and explore the parts of your own story that the Lord is inviting you to nurture alongside Him. More to come…
You can pre-save or pre-order “Longing for the Garden” at the top right of this page.
New Year, New Script, New Music
It’s a new year…goal-setting time!
My resolution for last year was to record and release a full-length album, and I got off to a good start, tracking much of it in mid-January 2023. Then, life happened. We buried Andrew’s precious Mamaw. We continued our journey with Lyme disease and its long-term effects. Our kids started 5th and 2nd at a new school. We had joys and challenges in ministry and relationships. 2023 was a great year - one of the sweetest we have experienced as a family. But in the midst of it all, the record didn’t meet every arbitrary deadline that I’d made for it, and even though my team created a new (and better!) strategy for releasing it, I still secretly felt like a failure. After all, I’ve been working on this album for over a year - I should be able to check it off the list!
This is what my therapist calls a “negative script.” I’m learning that a lot of my life has been spent with them lurking around, living rent-free in my mind, shaping my thoughts and the way I see myself. It is tough for me to recognize and name them because they are sneaky:
“It’s a lot of work with little payoff to release music in the streaming era,”
“120,000 new songs are released daily - what’s the point? Why add to the sonic chaos?”
“I’m not willing to hustle every day on the socials, so there’s no way for people to know about what I’m creating.”
“I’m 40 now - maybe I’ve missed my chance.”
-or the big one-
“I never succeed at any of my goals - maybe I should just stop trying.”
Ugh. NOT a helpful way to live a creative, whole-hearted life.
Thankfully, part of my journey of 2023 was beginning to learn that simply naming the scripts - recognizing them for what they are - is kindness to myself. I’m slowly learning to put to death those negative scripts by naming what is true:
“The arbitrary deadlines I tend to give myself are just that - arbitrary.”
“I DID finish the record - we just have a new release schedule that enables me to tell the stories behind these songs in a more effective way.”
“I released a couple of singles with Middlebrook Music in 2023 that I’m so proud of, with much more to come this year.”
“Gentle Gardener (the first single from the album and my most personal release so far) hit streaming services in October.”
“I’m releasing a new song that I am so excited about in just a few weeks.”
-and the one I’m still learning to believe-
“My worth is not defined by what I accomplish.”
All this to say - my resolution this year is more abstract than ever before. Continuing to uncover and name the negative scripts isn’t easy, but the freedom and joy I know it will bring is worth it.
Cheers to 2024, friends. Blessings to all of you as you do the deep, hard, and holy work of healing and growing.