I now have a set of 9 local phone numbers that I call every morning and every evening.  I could add a few more if I wanted to totally lose my sanity.

 

"Electronics please."  <hold>  "Do you have Nintendo Wii?"  (no)  "Okay, thank you." 

 

Why would I put myself through such torture?  Day after day after day?  (1) Because our kids want a Wii and have the money ready to go.  (2) Because demand has driven the price too high on eBay for our taste.  (3) Because "rumor has it" that Nintendo just released a big shipment, but no one seems to know where it will land.  One employee said encouragingly, "You're bound to find one eventually if you just keep trying."  Another responded to my opening question with what I suppose was his own brand of humor, "Weeeeeeeee....don't have one."  (Get it?  We?  Wii?  I guess you had to be there.)

 

I love my kids.  I do not love Nintendo.  I love my kids.  I do not love Nintendo.  I love my kids.  (I wonder if I should add up my hours?)

 

Signed,

Smy ling & Dy ling

 

 

 

 

Signed,

 

Ev O. Loo Shun?

 

 

 

Our 9-year-old has a hole in his heart (VSD--Ventricular Septal Defect).  Doctors discovered it when he was two months old, and they told me that Blake would need open heart surgery within the month.  I'll never forget those moments.  (Scott wasn't with me at the appt.  We just never expected anything like that.)  I called Scott and he said not to go home, but to drive straight to his office and he would take the rest of the day off.  I couldn't remember for the life of me how to get there.  I wasn't even sure how to get home at that point.  But somehow God took over and kept me and my heart patient baby safe that day.

 

My sister is a nurse.  She lives out of state, but that wasn't about to stop her as she searched for the THE best second opinion possible in the Denver area.  That turned out to be Dr. Schaffer of Children's Hospital, who graciously and skillfully led us through many an uncomfortable "I think we can wait another month...another two months...another six months" until finally Blake had weathered enough stormy gales that he no longer needed surgery at all!  Praise God!

 

Blake last saw Dr. Schaffer at age six, and Dr. S. said to come back in three years.  Count 'em!!  Three!!!  So today we went in for the EKG, echocardiogram, etc.  I prayed this morning that there would be no unwelcome surprises, but truthfully nothing would have surprised me anymore.  Ladies and Gentlemen:  I'm happy to report that all is well.  We are thanking and praising God again for his generosity to us!  The VSD is still there, the location is less than desirable, but it's only about the size of the hole in someone's pierced ear.  What amazes me is that Dr. Schaffer still thinks it will totally disappear someday.  Scott does too, and he says, "That's why I pray for that hole to close up every single day."  I used to rest my hand on Blake's heart quite often to see if it had disappeared (you can feel it quite distinctly), but I must admit that I haven't done that very often these last couple of years.  I'm going to start doing it again...during a quick hug...when I tuck him in at night...every chance I get.

 

Life is precious, isn't it?  And the life of a child?  No way to measure it.  I know I'm singing to the choir right now, but you just can't stop me from belting out a note or two tonight.  We were given another gift today, and I don't intend to take it for granted.  (.... even though Blake argued with me all the way to basketball practice!  Kids!!)  I love him anyway....

 

Signed,

Thuh Mah Mah

 

 

 

We stopped by a music store to buy valve oil and clarinet reeds.  The mundane.  But while there, I had this unexpected flashback of my childhood.  I had always possessed the predictable "piano lesson method books" and I took lessons forever and ever and ever.  But for the life of me I barely remember playing out of any of those books.  I was a Supreme Sightreader, so that took care of lesson requirements. 

 

However, I played endlessly from other books--in particular I remember "The Sound of Music" and a Top 40 book that had a lot of Beatles songs.  I had forgotten about that somehow, and it suddenly came crashing in on me as I purposely strode past the pop section of the store.  Stopped me in my tracks.  My eyes flitted to the sheet music displayed on the wall and time stood still...as I...as I...remembered.

 

So then I got this hairbrained idea to look for a piano book for Shelby of Disney's "High School Musical".  (Don't scoff at this movie.  I did originally.  I was wrong.  It's amazing.  Even my teenage boys grudgingly watch it, pretending it's "beneath them", and just can't walk away.  Catchy!)  The music store was predictably out of the intermediate level piano book, but more are ordered.  (I heard recently that 4 million copies of the CD soundtrack have been sold to date!)

 

So I'm wondering why I didn't think of this idea of "extra" piano books before?  All four of my children have waded through the deep waters of piano lessons and done wonderfully, but I never thought about buying them "other" books to play from ... !! ... books that the teacher might not think of ... books that were the life and blood of my formative years.  Somehow I seem to have lost sight of "myself" in all the ensuing years of living out the broader and usually more ambitious vision of those around me.

 

I think much of this realization has surfaced because of what I'm reading right now in Walking In This World (Cameron), a chapter entitled "Discovering a Sense of Adventure."

 

--"Deprived of adventure, our optimism fails us.  Adventure is a nutrient, not a frivolity."

--"Risks, we tell ourselves, are too risky."

--"We're so worried about whether we can play in the 'big leagues' that we refuse to let ourselves play at all."

--Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.  How we hate that idea.  We know it as beginners but forget it as we advance.  Trial-and-error becomes beneath our dignity."

--"It becomes about perfection and other people's perception, not the joy of creation, the play of ideas."

--"We are all born children.  The trick is how to remain one." (Picasso)

--"If we stop trying to improve ourselves and start trying to delight ourselves, we get further as artists."

--"Seriousness is the enemy of spontaneity.  What we 'should' love and what we do love are often two different things."

 

I used to pray about living my life as a "songwriter".  But lately that has shifted, almost imperceptibly, to prayers about simply living a "creative life".  Suddenly that seems to be so very much more important.  More God-glorifying.  Broader.  Richer.  ...  And maybe those two ideas (songwriter vs. creative life) don't seem that much different to you, but it feels very different to me somehow.  

 

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things....

 

And crisp apple streudels....

 

And schnitzel with noodles....

 

And....

 

And....

 

Just a few.  Such a very few.  Because I know the adventures God has waiting for me are simply...beyond imagination.  Wanna go exploring?

 

Signed,

Know Tyme 2 Waist

 

 

 

Sometimes life can be a wild ride.

 

 

Signed,

Hanngg Awnn

 

 

 

Version 1.0 - One day at a time. 

 

Version 2.0 - Take baby steps. 

 

Version 3.0 - It's like driving a car at night.  You never see further than your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way. 

                                                                                                                                                          --E. L. Doctorow

Signed,

Darrc Outt?

 

 

 

Hello.  My name is Bev.  And I'm a ......  perfectionist.  (I am not proud of this.  I'm trying to cleanse it from my gene pool.) 

 

These words from Julia Cameron challenge me:  "I am not sure where we got the idea that in order to be 'real' artists we had to do things perfectly.  The minute we see that word 'perfect' (and I think critics are the ones who drag it in the door), spontaneity goes out the window.  We get so sure that we can't be a great composer that we never let ourselves write our kids a goofy lullaby or play improvisational noodles at the piano.  We're so respectful of 'great' art that we always, chronically, sell ourselves short.  We're so worried about whether we can play in the 'big leagues' that we refuse to let ourselves play at all." 

 

 

:-)

 

That last part reminds me of a toddler's devotional book that we used for all four of our children that I absolutely loved.  I would have read it for me whether they liked it or not!!  (Don't worry.  They loved it.)  One of my very favorite stories begins this way:  "Do you like to make things?  God likes to make things.  It was God who made the world!"  ....  I was always amazed to think of God getting out his craft supplies and making up stuff for fun.  Creativity is part of who He is! 

 

So maybe some of my songs turn out like aardvarks, or puffer fish.  But if they're good enough for God, then they're good enough for me.

 

Signed,

Aye Lyke Kuller

 

 

 

Two random items:

 

-- Scott returned home this past Sunday from a 15-day Microsoft boot camp.  He passed all 7 tests, eventually.  It was brutal.  He survived.  Here's the part that amuses me:  Our pastor, who is a good friend of ours and someone I simply love to pieces, sent the following email on Monday.  "Praise the Lord for Scott's passing!  That is terrific.  I hope he gets some rest and feels like he succeeded in climbing a huge mountain!" 

 

I've heard of a pastor comforting someone when his or her spouse "passes", but maybe this was a bit too enthusiastic?  (Naturally, I emailed him back to give him a hard time.  That's what good friends do after all.)

 

 

Identify theft is rampant.  Hmm.  This begs the question of "who you are", apart from that stunning driver's license photo.  (oooo...aahhhhh)  Are you a grandparent?  Someone's first-born?  Doctor, lawyer, beggarman, thief?

 

Last week I read these words by Fanny Brice:  Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be, because sooner or later, if you are posing, you will forget the pose, and then where are you?

 

Ouch.  I'm reminded of how I sometimes read deeply spiritual blogs, or zanily hilarious ones, and wish I could strike that particular pose so naturally.  (Not just blogs.  Songs too.)  "Wow!  Spectacular!"  But how long could I hold that pose?  Eventually I know my joints would ache, the smile would become plastic, and...well really...I can't imagine where that outfit came from in the first place! 

 

So now I'm thinking I'm better off with the identity God gave me in the first place.  No one can steal that.

 

Signed,

Aye Godda B. Mee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Signed,

P. Tur Cot 'n Tale

 

 

 

 

I have to return a book to the library that I've loved and hung on to for, well, too long.  In "The Secrets of Songwriting", Susan Tucker interviews thirteen (13) successful songwriters.  Here's the CliffsNotes version:

 

JASON BLUME--I knew in my heart that I was not going to be happy unless I at least gave it a 100-percent try to become a successful songwriter.

 

CRAIG WISEMAN--One of the greatest insights I ever made was getting humble enough to realize I'm not special.  I'm just an average guy, and if I feel it, and I think it, and I do it, then I'm virtually guaranteed that everybody has felt the same thing.

 

TIA SILLERS--Creativity is not waiting for the muse.  Creativity is actually a work ethic.

 

ALLEN SHAMBLIN--I don't want to over-spiritualize this, but at the same time, I recognize that this is my calling.  God opened the doors and I walked on through.

 

STEVE SESKIN--If the listener sees your work, you're dead.  I think it has to end up looking like you didn't do any work at all.

 

MIKE REID--Writing is a blue-collar occupation.  It is a construction job.

 

HUGH PRESTWOOD--Any time I have a choice where my brain and my gut feeling disagree, I always go with my gut feeling.

 

CAROLYN DAWN JOHNSON--Never hang on to your last song.  Never believe it's the last song you're going to write.  There's always a better one coming.

 

STEWART HARRIS--If you can give yourself goose bumps, nine times out of ten you can give your audience goose bumps.

 

BOB DIPIERO--Over-analyzing something, especially in the initial stages of writing, can be the death of a song.

 

BRETT BEAVERS--Opportunity is missed by most people because it's dressed in overalls and looks like work.

 

GRETCHEN PETERS--There's not any level of fame, or fortune, or accomplishment that you're going to reach, where you're going to cease to feel that you've just written a terrible song.

 

 

My day was defined by three hats:  chauffeur, chef and schongwriter.  (Sorry about the spelling.  Had to get the alliteration in there.)  The question is, who won?

 

9 a.m. - 2 hours as schongwriter

 

11:30 a.m. - 2.5 hours as chauffeur (pick up Jordan from school, drive to airport and back)

 

2 p.m. - 1 hour as schongwriter (do an artist date...feed the well)

 

3 p.m. - 2 hours as chauffeur (pick up Austin and take him to his annual well-check, also examine snowblading injury)

 

5 p.m. - 1 hour as chef

 

6 p.m. - 2.5 hours as chauffeur (Blake to BB, Shelby & Austin to youth group, pick up Blake from BB, pick up Shelby & Austin)

 

And the score, ladies and gentlemen, is:

 

    Chef - 1

    Chauffeur - 7

    Schongwriter - 3

 

Somehow I just knew chauffeur was going to win.  (Further evidence--see charge card receipt from gas station.)

 

HOWEVER, I think a sizable chunk of the chauffeur time could DOUBLE as schongwriting time because I played around with the melody while I was on the road.  (You know.  Flip through radio stations.  Try stuff out.  Change melody.  Change it back.  Change it again.)  Which means, unfortunately, that I probably wasn't giving full attention to my driving while I MADE STUFF UP.  This could help explain my speeding ticket earlier this month.

 

The final sadness of the day...the evening chauffeuring responsibilities meant I couldn't attend the SongU class I had signed up for with the eminent Schu Schmith.  <sigh>  At least I can listen to the trancript tomorrow.

 

I'm taking off my hats for the day.

 

Signed,

Schlee P.

 

 

 

Unrest and chaos in the Herrema household:

 

Yes, our frozen water pipe burst yesterday afternoon, but it's been repaired.  (Cost $125.00.  Could have been repaired for free.  I messed up on that one.  Long story.)

 

Yes, my 14-year-old crashed while snowblading in the Rocky Mountains yesterday.  They think he dislocated his shoulder and that it went back into place.  He's pretty sore, but thankfully he was wearing his helmet, since he landed head first after going off some crazy jump.  Crazy kid.

 

Yes, Scott is out of town for two weeks working on a Microsoft certification.  The work has been brutal, he's been a bit discouraged, and we all miss him.  (And truth be told, we often need 3 drivers to get everyone to where they need to go.)

 

Yes, Jordan (18-year-old) is flying to Nashville tomorrow and then shuttling over to Chattanooga for scholarship weekend at Covenant College.  He's the finalist for 2 scholarships and we're pretty proud of him.  I can't help but wonder if he'll end up at Covenant next year (visiting him would certainly help justify a few Nashville plane tickets for me).  Is it unhealthy that I miss him already?  Not about being gone this week, but about being gone next year?

 

It all feels a bit out of sorts.  I'll be happy and thankful on Sunday when everyone is home, safe and sound.  Maybe life will return to normal.  (Scott usually pipes up about now and says, "Bev, this IS normal.")

 

In all these things, I realize that God is in control.  Not me.  God.  He rules, and his "rules" will rule the day.

 

 

I always thought I was pretty good at grammar, but I may have missed these rules along the way.  (It's never too late to learn, right?)  So this student will be examining periods and commas for the rest of the week.

 

Signed,

Speh Shull Needz

 

 

 

Sometimes a tiny little thing happens and I simply let it get under my skin.  Color my day.  Affect how I speak to my children.  Occupy my thoughts.  Distract me from getting other things done.

 

Today that "tiny little thing" is the fact that the hot water pipe is frozen in the kitchen.  This happened a year or so ago with this exact same pipe and it created quite the mess in the basement when it finally thawed and...yes...sprayed water everywhere.  We've lived in this house for ten years, but the water pipe problem didn't surface until we finished off the basement with double walls, double windows and double doors everywhere (to keep things extra quiet for our studio work).  Unfortunately the double wall also keeps the heat of the room from warming the pipe in the outside wall.  We didn't anticipate this problem.  We thought we had now solved it.  And we still haven't completed the repair from last winter.  (Maybe that's a good thing.)

 

So I tend to be hard on myself.  WHY didn't I trickle the water overnight?  I trickled it the night before.  So why not last night?  (Uhh.  Didn't think of it?)  Plus Scott is out of town for two weeks, so that means when the pipe finally thaws, I'm going to have to deal with the potential fall-out by myself.  Teenage boys might be helpful at a time like this, but they're skiing today (and freezing their tootsies off I imagine...we're having quite the cold snap).  Plus if the pipe bursts, it will cost money.  This is not a good time for that.  And since I have to leave the house for a couple of hours after lunch, that's probably when it will happen.  I suppose I could turn the water off while I'm gone, right?

 

So I walk around the house and am simply not very nice to my younger two children.  I can't seem to focus on the "to do" tasks I should be doing.  I can't devote any mental energy to songwriting.  All I can think about is "when is that pipe gonna burst?"

 

Is that "small" of me or what?!  It's not like I'm waiting for test results from the doctor (which way too many of my friends and family are doing these days).  It's not like I'm waiting for one of my children to return to God (which several of my friends are doing).  It's not like I live in a country or a neighborhood where simple day-to-day safety is a gift rather than a given.  It's just a silly water pipe for goodness' sake!!

 

At times like these, God reveals to me just how petty and small I really am, and it's embarrassing.  I'm mad at myself for being this way.  I'm hoping that blogging about it will help me refocus on things that really matter...like my 9-year-old who is singing at the top of his lungs along with the backgrounds songs on his GameCube games, or my daughter who took the time to design and create some gift wrap for the present she's wrapping.  Little things that matter...all around me...calling out my name.  I think I'll go see if I can warm up.

 

Signed,

Froh Zenn Inn Side

 

 

 

Still trying to write that "killer song"?  Consider:

 

--Cicero praticed speaking before friends every day for 30 years to perfect his eloquence.

--Milton rose at 4 o'clock every morning to have enough hours for writing his Paradise Lost.

--Gibbon spent 26 years on his Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

--Noah Webster labored 36 years writing his dictionary, crossing the Atlantic twice to gather material.

--Byron re-wrote one of his poetic masterpieces 99 times before publication, and it became a classic.

--Before Paul wrote: "I finished my course," he wrote: "I have worked harder, been put in jail oftener, been whipped times without number, and faced death again and again and again (2 Co 11:23 TLB).

 

[To give credit where credit is due, I did not gather those pieces of trivia.  They were in a devotional.]

 

I'm thinking it's worth my time, and maybe yours as well, to ponder the final question posed: "Am I willing to do what it takes?"

 

Signed,

Purr Spec Tivv

 

 

 

Re Fats Domino:  "Even on little frothy tunes whipped up in the studio, the phrasing and delivery was always Fats."

 

Frothy little tunes whipped up in the studio.  Right.  Just like that. 

 

I'm thinking I may need to buy a new recipe book....

 

Signed,

Hung Gree

 

 

 

Do your shoes fit you?  

 

My brother hangs sheetrock for a living.  All alone.  Manual labor.  Day in and day out.  Did I mention, "all alone"?  And before that he was a dairy farmer.  Just him and the cows.  The wierd thing is that he is a VERY social person by nature.  My brothers used to tell how they would go to a drive-in movie.  Harv would head right over to the snack area and he'd have a date lined up with some girl he'd never met before in no time.  (I'm not recommending this.)  And everyone knew him on college campus.  ("Do you mean to tell me you're Harvey Van Gelder's sister?!!!"  I wasn't sure if I should say 'yes' or not.)

 

So now Harv is fighting a serious battle with cancer and just finished his first 8 days of chemo.  I talked to him today, and I actually think he's enjoying all the interaction...with visitors, with the guy who draws blood, with the nurses, with family members on the phone, with people!  He said, "It's better than hanging sheetrock, that's for sure."  (Uh, yes, he's downplaying the cancer piece of the picture right now and the nausea is bound to dampen his enthusiasm in time...but his faith in God IS amazing.) 

 

He tells me that he often wakes up at 4 a.m., or sometimes in the middle of the night, and just writes for awhile.  "What do you write?  Do you journal?"  "No, I usually write songs."  Say what?!  ....  Let me get this straight.  My brother, who was a dairy farmer and now hangs sheetrock for living, writes songs.  He has for quite some time.  And I never knew about it?!  Go figure.  (I'm suddenly reminded of the time I found out, as an adult, that my dad wrote poems for my mom.  You have GOT to be kidding me.) 

 

So I find myself wondering if Harv is really designed for something different than what he does.  And I find myself reflecting on what I read this afternoon.  Julie Cameron writes:  "As artists, when a shoe doesn't fit us, we may try to walk in it anyway.  If we are told that it fits, we may start to use our excellent creative imaginations to imagine that it fits.  We may further tell ourselves that our own discomfort at the pinching and the pain of a wrong shoe--and a wrong personal and creative identiy--is just our 'ego.'"

 

"If we are told that it fits...."  Hmm.  Personally, I don't intend to rely on a shoe salesman to tell me if my shoes feel comfortable.  I wanna figure that out on my own.

 

How about you?  Is it time to try on a different pair of shoes? 

 

Signed,

 

Behr Feat 2 Dae

 

 

 

I went to traffic court with my 18-year-old.  4-point ticket for careless driving.  Pretty ironic since a Denver snowstorm was releasing its fury and he was driving even MORE carefully than my extremely cautious, responsible, "first-born" driver already does.  Careless driving?  Nope.

 

As he gingerly braked for a stop sign, he slid sideways and bumped a car.  Yes, bumped.  I feel justified in using that term because the other car had no damage, and my son's car ended up with a broken lens over the blinker.  Didn't even break the bulb, just the lens. 

 

I happened to have been out in the same storm.  I happened to have come through the same intersection an hour earlier in my 4-wheel drive.  I happen to know the weather was an absolute disaster.

  

Alas.  It's off to court you go.  Point reduction (good) and a $91 fine (bad) that he would rather have spent elsewhere.  Oh yeah, and he has the word "accident" on his record.  I feel sorry for him.  Of all the crazy teenage drivers I see all the time, why him?  Jordan, of course, is responsible and level-headed about it, commenting that there are probably good things that can come out of this...and proceeds to brainstorm possibilities of what those might be.  Yup.  First-born.

 

You know what?  There are some strange people out there.  Stranger than me.  Possibly even stranger than some of you.  If you don't believe me, just go to traffic court someday for a bit of entertainment.  Take your shoes off.  Sit a spell.  Try to keep your snickering to yourself.

 

I ask you...why would anyone in their right mind want to make a living being a magistrate in traffic court?!!!  Suddenly being a songwriter doesn't seem so unusual after all.  You heard it here folks...I AM THE NORMAL ONE!

 

Signed,

Thuh Mahm

 

 

 

Do you feel called?

 

I was just listening to Mike Bowling sing "The Call".  Short and sweet.  Right to the point.  Acapella.

 

    So remind me, Lord, you called me

 

 

It echoed words I read just this morning:

 

--Seasoned long-distance runners have learned to focus on endurance, not just speed.

--Quitting isn't an option.  ...  They'd never be satisfied just sitting on the sidelines....

--Winning will cost you in terms of pressure, criticism, loneliness and sacrifice.

--God exposes us to opposition and criticism to strengthen our character.

--Success only comes when you're committed and have the passion to cross the finish line.

--When the pressure is on will you say, like Nehemiah, "My work is too important to stop" (Ne 6:3 CEV)?

--If your answer is yes, get your eye on the goal, "run to win," and you're sure to cross the finish line!

 

These words could apply to songwriting, and hopefully they encourage you in that pursuit.  But, of course, it's broader than that.

 

Mike's song has such focus.  It's all about that one soul who might be saved because you or I figured out our God-ordained purpose and then ran the race, long or short, and ran it "all out."  Gave it everything we had.

 

    And may I never run from the call.

 

As you're running this week, may you feel His pleasure....

 

Signed,

Huffin & Puffin

 

 

 

Bear with me for a moment.  I'm working my way up to two fabulous quotes at the end of this blog.  Really!  You'll see!

 

Several days ago I blogged about all the different kinds of music I enjoy and that are in my background.  But, realistically, there are only so many hours in a day.  So I find myself wondering what God has in store for me.  Part of this journey as a songwriter is figuring that out.  Or perhaps more accurately, most of this journey is learning to notice what God is up to and then cooperating.

 

I give you Exhibit A:  A professional songwriter acquaintance (who shall remained unnamed) listened to a rewrite I did on a song this past week and commented that it potentially has "a Broadway or theater type appeal".  I won't bore you with a list of how many times I've heard similar observations over the years, including at WAJ, but they exist more often than I would have ever expected.  Does that mean I'm "supposed" to be writing songs for Broadway?  I doubt it.  But this has happened often enough that I do pay attention.  For example, last spring my ASCAP rep had me send a song to a contact in New York who works with musicals.  Hmm.  This whole subject area is just one example, and may simply speak to rhyme scheme, or emotion, or who knows what.  And yet I know that God is working in the details of influences, options, and avenues.  As I've said, I believe our job as songwriters is to "cooperate" (for lack of a better word), learn what there is to learn, and then use the gifts He's given us wherever He leads us.

 

Okay.  One example is probably enough.  You've waited very patiently.  Exhibit B will simply be the quotes I promised:

 

From Julia Cameron's book, "Walking in This World" (follow-up to The Artist's Way):  "There is an infallibility to the law that as we each seek to express what we are longing to say, there is always someone or something that is longing to hear precisely what we have expressed."