It's another gorgeous morning in Estes Park, Colorado.   Yesterday I watched a young family get out of the car in front of the lodge.  The kids were fairly young and absolutely amazed at the view.  And then the dad said, "Yeah, and turn around."  They turned around, and discovered an even MORE beautiful view behind them!  It was so fun to watch their faces.

 

As I write that, it reminds me of life.  We think we've got such a wonderful thing "in view", and then God says, "Yeah, and turn around."  And we see what we've been missing.  I just hope and pray that I'm listening at those times when God says that to me.  Maybe this week is one of them.

 

I think one of my favorite things so far this week has been Shaun Groves.  I've read his blog on rare occasion, but I may have to become a regular.  His heart speaks to me.  (And his sense of humor!)

 

And you know what?  God is good - even in the timing of death.  Both of my friends (Paul and Lorinda) died on Monday.  The same day, the same hospital, within 12 hours of each other.  Things like that just aren't an accident, ya know?

 

It's time to head for morning worship.  I've already heard God speaking this morning in my own devotions, in the specific songs I heard on a worship CD as I drove to the Y, in the experience of HIM.  And I know there's much more to come...if I just pay attention.

 

[WAJ lunch today!  Yay!]

 

Signed,

Liss ehn Ning Klo Slee

 

 

 

Paul Gunnink is one of the most engaged and loving worshippers I have ever seen.  I have had the privilege of leading worship with him many times over the years, and also worshipping with him in smaller settings.

 

Today Paul is worshipping yet again - this time face-to-face with God in Heaven. 

 

Paul passed away around 1 a.m....passed away from this earth...but not from who he was created to be.  I can't help but envision the totally free and unemcumbered worship he must be experiencing at this very moment.

 

I rejoice for him - especially that he is free from pain - and I mourn for his family.  Paul - we'll be joining you soon!

 

Signed,

Awn Mye Weigh

 

 

 

I'm here!  GMA's 33rd annual Music in the Rockies.  I can't decide if I'm more excited to see what I'm going to learn in the classes, or to see some of my WAJ family.  I guess that makes this a mini family reunion of sorts!

 

It poured this afternoon, which only heightens the vivid colors and smells of the mountains this evening as the sun is shining and there's a hint of a breeze. I'm unpacked, I've bought my groceries, I've made sure my laptop works in the lodge (which it obviously does), and I've managed to leave my purse behind once so far. 

 

I'll admit I'm a bit out of it with all the stuff going on with Paul, but I'm trying really hard to live "in the moment".  Paul really wasn't expected to live through the night, but he did.  Scott and I stopped at the hospital briefly this morning to give hugs, to tell Judy and the kids we love them, and to tell PAUL we love him - because I firmly believe he's aware, even though it seems he isn't.  When my brother died, he "hung on" for many hours until my parents arrived from out-of-state.  All appearances would say he was firmly in a coma and unaware of his surroundings.  But we kept telling him, "Hang on, Dave.  Mom and Dad are on their way."  When my mom walked in the room, she walked over to him, bent close to his ear, and said "Dave, it's Mom.  It's okay.  We're here now."  And immediately a tear appeared at the corner of his eye and trickled down his face.  That was a precious moment I'll never forget.  And he died soon after that.

 

Anyway - back to the MOMENT.  Tonight's concert starts in 15 minutes - and the host is some guy named Michael W. Smith.  I'm pretty sure I've heard of him.  Yup, yup, yup.

 

It's been a long day, but I think this will be the perfect way to end it!

 

Signed,

He Izz Wurr Thee

 

 

Signed,

Gree Ving

 

 

 

Our teenage boys invited their youth group friends to our house.  Everyone arrived around 4:30 p.m. so they could go play friz-friz (frisbee) in the park.  Well, it's absolutely POURING outside.  I mean - POURING!  The kind of storm where you wonder why auto manufacturers don't include a turbo speed on your windshield wipers.  And when you live in Denver - which is mile high - you get an unbelievable amount of lightning along with that.    

 

One might think this would be enough to keep them indoors.  Somewhere warm.   And dry.  And safe.  Are you kidding?!!  No way!!

 

The boys borrow swimsuits from our stash and head for the park, already freaking out about the cold.  The girls wisely borrow an umbrella and tag along to "admire" and "encourage" their cohorts - from within the shelter house.  I toss out a few motherly "thoughts" for them to consider on their way out the door, watch them enter "torrential rains", and then offer an arrow prayer or two.  Teenagers!!

 

At least there are freshly baked chocolate chip cookies waiting for them - and we'll order pizza later on when they watch a movie.  What - a - life.

 

Signed,

Mah Mah Bair

 

 

 

I have only two days left to get ready for back-to-back weeks away from home.  

 

Signed,

Itts Wurth Ihtt

 

 

 

I read these words last night in a book on writing:

 

 

That challenges me.  Where, indeed, is "the edge"?  Do I have what it takes to give the 90%?  To put "me" into a song? 

 

This reminded me of something my college composition teacher and choir director (Mr G) said.  "Composing music is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration."  I doubt that was an original thought - more likely a quote - but I saw him live it in his own life.  He worked hard!  In the midst of college professorship, a family of boys, and tons of "outside" musical endeavors, he still found time to compose music.  In later years when I was searching for music for my church choir, I could go to the music stores in Denver and find his compositions.  

 

Mr. G. is getting older and his health is failing, and yet he writes nearly every day and still conducts music festivals nationwide.  He took time to encourage me as a young college student, he entered me in the Iowa Young Composer Contest (and I won!), he used one of my octavos as the opening number on our college Concert Choir tour (very encoruaging), and we still exchange Christmas greetings to this day. 

 

It's funny.  In the early days of our relationship he was HARD on me - I was the 15-year-old accompanist for his church choir, and he had a reputation for making every other accompanist run out of rehearsal in tears at least once.  Well I never gave him the satisfaction...although I definitely vented to my mom when I got home!  ....  You know what?  Now I wouldn't trade my years with him for anything.

 

Mr. G. took great pride in a strong work ethic, had unbelievable attention to detail, and often wept as he directed our college choir in concert.  We gave him our all. 

 

I wonder....do I have what it takes to be like that?

 

Signed,

Wurr King & We Ping

 

 

 

Picture this....

 

A teenage girl is visiting a church in Montana.  Actually, it's the church of her brother-turned-dairy farmer, and she is so thrilled and honored to be singing a duet this morning with her younger sister.  "Big brother" and his new wife are out in the audience, proud as all get out.  Things go well, until the song has ended and she trips - yes trips - down the front steps on the way to her pew.    The crowd gasps.  "Little sister" is decidedly unhelpful as she plops down in the pew with her older sister and giggles uncontrollably.  After church, the comments tend NOT to be, "What a nice job you girls did this morning!"  But rather, "Are you okay?  You didn't hurt yourself did you?"

 

Picture this...

 

A grown woman is the guest organist in a denomination she has never been a part of nor visited.  The staff member who hired her is out of town.  No one seems to be aware of who she is or why she's there, even though she arrived early to practice.  Just minutes before she begins the organ prelude (a gorgeous pipe organ, by the way - complete with Spanish trumpets), she's asking "Joe Blow" as he walks past her, "Do you usually sing all the verses of each hymn?  Or do they announce the verses?"  You know - basic stuff like that.  ....  Her fervent prayer all morning long is this: "God, PLEASE don't let me be distracting this morning.  Help these people to worship in the way they are used to, without any disruptions from me.  Keep me in the background."  ....  Things go well, until the offertory has ended and she trips - yes trips - down the front steps on the way to her pew.    The crowd gasps.  As she sits in her pew, she's venting to God, "God!  That was distracting!"  After church, a few people manage to ask "Are you okay?  You didn't hurt yourself did you?"  But not many, as she hastens out the door and flees the scene of the crime.

 

Deja vu.

 

Yup.  Those are me.    I sincerely hope I don't repeat this act someday at a WAJ alumni cafe.

 

Signed,

3 Tymz - UR Outt

 

 

 

Okay, I'll admit it.  Singing in praise team turned out to be a pleasure- and a wonderful "worship" experience taboot!  It felt so freeing to not have to play and sing at the same time.  

 

  - I could concentrate on my vocals (singing in tune is always a plus). 

  - I could breathe (cuz I was standing instead of sitting!). 

  - I could express the lyric and my emotions with raised hands or movement ot whatever. 

  - Most importantly, I could more thoroughly focus my attention on God.  (I can multi-task keys & vocals with the best of them.  Been doin' it for years.  And yet....) 

 

So ladies and gentlemen, I not only survived (oh ye of little faith) but I look forward to doing it again someday!

 

You might not think this relates to my songwriting, but you would be wrong.  You see, I took a step into the unknown.  Faced my fears.  And came out the other side improved.  There's no doubt in my mind that God was calling - I could feel it in my gut.

 

[BTW - This is totally off the subject - but, it's hot.  Our house A/C went on the blink today.  I'm feeling cranky - and am oh-so-aware of how spoiled I am.]

 

Signed,

Straw nnng Grrr

 

 

 

Something that's just "normal life" for you may actually be "fear of the unknown" for me.  Big time.  It's such a silly little thing when I think about it, and yet....

 

News flash:  "Bev is going to stand on stage, in front of the entire congregation, and sing in the praise team on Sunday for the very first time in her entire life."  !!  I'm not kidding.  My very first time!!  (I told you it was silly.)

 

Really now, why should that bother me?  I gave vocal recitals in college.  I directed church choirs for 15 years and even directed "mass choirs" with no problem whatsoever.  I've played the organ in church hundreds of times, and even played mini-recitals on some of greatest pipe organs in The Netherlands.  I was in charge of our former church's praise team for something like 5 years - although admittedly I led from the piano, sang without a mic, and coached our 4 singers "from afar".  [Hmm.  Maybe that last one was a sign that paranoia was beginning to set in.]

 

So when I expressed nervousness about this weekend's step into the unknown, our new worship director said "oh pulleease".  So I explained my predicament (especially the part about not having my security blanket, the piano, in front of me), gulped, and said okay. 

 

At rehearsal, it took a moment for people to figure out why we had TWO keyboardists there.  (Oh!!  You're singing!!)   Actually, it turns out I'm the only female singing, along with 2 guys.  Okaaay.  After a couple of songs, our director asked me to solo on the next song.    Say what?!!  I made some comment to the guy on my left about taking LITTLE steps into the unknown (he laughed and said to go for it).  The guy on my right, who happens to be someone I used to work for and is a stitch, thought I was being silly and said...you guessed it..."oh pulleease."  (Breathe in.  Breathe out.  God, this is NOT about ME!  Keep me focused....)  I said yes.  I had trouble getting to sleep last night.

 

Like I said.  Silly. 

 

Hopefully I will live to report back.

 

Signed,

I. No - Itts Hi Tyme

 

 

 

I thought I'd never go again.  After all, this is "always" scheduled during our houseboat week in Lake Powell.  But all the stars were aligned for 2007 and things worked out. 

 

I thought I'd demo my best songs and blow everyone away.  Woo-hoo!  But then I decided not to demo anything (and let's face it - chances of blowing everyone away were slim anyway.) 

 

I thought I might regret that choice.  Instead, I'm relieved that I'll be focusing on education and relationships.  Not crowding around the lists of finalists--shedding tears, shrieking, or texting my family.  

 

I thought I was all ready to go.  Simply pack my bags, right?  And then yesterday, I remembered each attendee gets to have one song critique as part of their paid registration.  Good grief.  And now nothing is demo'd.  But a song is a song is a song, right?  Production doesn't matter, right?  Well, to tell you the truth, I think it usually does...especially at this event.

 

But I'm thinking (and you're thinking) I need to refocus on the earlier thing about education and relationships.

 

Estes Park, here I come.

 

Signed,

C U Thair?

 

 

 

I was just in a SongU class called "Writing for TV" taught by Pamela Phillips Oland.  She's such a versatile writer - you name it, she writes it.  That versatility really appeals to me.  I love writing a variety of things...even though Dave Clark once told me to go home and write TEN Nicole Nordeman ballads, of which I think I wrote about five before I rebelled.  (Fear not.  I later mended my ways and returned to the assigned homework.)

 

I once called this my Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde syndrome.  An encouraging friend said I was simply "versatile".  Holly Zabka wondered if I might be good at "assignment writing".  Tonight, Pam Oland described this kind of writer as a "chameleon", so I've been picturing myself as the Geico gecko all night long.  (he he - pick a color!)

 

A quote I snatched from tonight's class:  "The most important song you ever write is the one you're writing right now." (Pam Oland)

 

Signed,

Tee Vee?  Y. Nott

 

 

 

I have always loved Steven Curtis Chapman's music.  I doubt we'll be seeing his face at Write About Jesus anytime soon, but I love his music anyway.  Actually, it doesn't seem like SCC is ever listed by WAJ clinicians as a favorite songwriter, which kind of surprises me.  Maybe they've met him and he's just not a nice guy "up close and personal".  Maybe his songs aren't as good as the general Christian populace seems to think they are.  Maybe other songwriters are envious of his success.  (Never!)  Maybe he just moves in different circles as a songwriter because he's also an artist.  I don't know.

 

At any rate, so many of his songs have inspired me over the years...and still do.  For the Sake of the Call, I Will Be Here, Magnificent Obsession, Live Out Loud, Speechless.  I understand his passion regarding adoption, but I've always selfishly hoped it wouldn't replace his passion for songwriting - as if it might be more important that Bev hear a new song than that a child find a home.  (ugh)

 

Well I'm guessing SCC can fit in both of those life passions, and that God has called him to just that!  And I was thrilled to discover today that he has a new album coming out called "In This Moment".  One song is described as "destined to become a classic" and is entitled "Cinderella".  Oh man.  Just thinking about SCC writing a song with such an intriguing title is enough to make me sit down and crank out something myself.  Anything!  (Maybe I'll write a ditty entitled "Cinderella" just so that I truly appreciate SCC's genius when I hear his version.  Unless of course it causes me to want to jump off a very tall building.  Uhh....maybe I should reconsider.)

 

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the release.  I fully realize some of you may not be Steven Curtis Chapman fans.  If so, you should move along now....

 

Signed,

Inn Spyrd

 

 

 

The best moment of my Sunday happened in the late afternoon. 

 

I was listening to an e-transcript of a songwriting lecture (via SongU.com) when my 10-year-old son interrupted me by placing his hand on my shoulder.  I hit pause, took off my headphones and said, "What do you need?"  His response:  "I just need a hug."  So I reached out to hug him...me twisted sideways in my desk chair, and him standing right next to me in his red polo shirt and eternally tousled blonde hair.  We simply hugged each other for something like 2 or 3 minutes - not saying a word. 

 

And then he was done.  Without further comment, he released me and moved on...and so did I.  [sigh]

 

Signed,

Treh Zhurd Mo Mehnt

 

 

 

I was sort of whining about the rewriting process yesterday, which is pointless because I actually enjoy the process a lot.  It always reminds of a game we call "Fast Scrabble", where the art of "rearranging" your letters over and over (rewriting them, if you will) is crucial.  Seeing the possibilities.  Making things "work."  And you need to be quick about it.  (I'm quite good at the game, if I do say so myself.  Remind me to teach you sometime.)  But I digress.

 

This morning I listened to my rewrite and I still like it.  I'm giving myself a gold star!   There's only one spot in the bridge that needs to be changed.  Success!

 

And best of all, Scott and I went out for dinner this evening for our wedding anniversary, which was actually on July 5.  And then we met our good friends, Paul and Judy, to listen to some live music at a venue none of us had ever been to before.  Excellent!  It's been a long, long time since we've done something like that.  Too long.

 

Signed,

Lyfe Izz Guhd

 

 

 

Today I worked on a rewrite.  Okay.  Begin.  Read through the lyric.  Consider the revised verse melody.  Too busy?  Tweak the rhyme in line 2.  Hmm...maybe that spot in the melody too.  Rethink the chorus - is it doing its job?  Give up on the "new point" I'm making in the bridge and stick to the message at hand.  Sing things through and discover a few words that just aren't...well...singable.  Change 'em.

 

Record the work-tape - finally.  (This part would be much more straight-forwarded if I had better singing chops.)

 

Switch some laundry loads, work on a puzzle with Shelby, clear the kitchen table, shuffle some college medical forms.  Then sit down to take another listen.

 

Hrrmmmpphh!!  Is that how I sang that?  Really?  Well, maybe that works.  Cool - the bridge is doing its job much better!  But what happened on that 2nd line....  And how in the world am I ever going to get my original chorus out of my head so that I'm comfortable hearing the new lines I wrote earlier today?  The old chorus lyric has cut such a deep groove in my pea-brain that I'm not sure I can ever level it out again. 

 

If things go the way they usually do, most of these changes will eventually become my friends.  A few will annoy me until I boot them out of the house.  And tomorrow morning I'll take this to my Christian Songwriters Group - wearing my bullet-proof vest of course.  There's an ever-so-slight possibility that one or two of my fellow songwriters may have an opinion to share.  (ha!)

 

Aaarrghh!!  Please tell me this is all normal.  And why can't I be one of those people who reports that the song simply "wrote itself" in 15 minutes?

 

Signed,

Duh Bull Mine Dead (or maybe just Brane Dehd)

 

 

 

I was reading about old cathedrals in an intriguing book my sister lent me.  I read about how a large number of monks helped build these fabulous cathedrals (excellent pictures in black and white, by the way), and they did their work for God.  They prayed with their tools and skills.  Just like songwriters, right?

 

"Many of these cathedrals took over a hundred years to complete."  Which, of course, means that the craftsman might never see the final structure!  "He could only hope that his son or daughter would one day see the completed work to which he had given his life."  What...no Dove award?  No royalty checks?  No slap on the back from the guy at church?

 

 

 

They hid their own work!!  On purpose!  Kinda goes against our gut instinct, doesn't it?

 

The question was raised whether any of these cathedrals could be built in our lifetime.  Are there people willing to sacrifice to that degree?  Sadly I think not. 

 

So as I worked on a song today, I tried to picture myself carving an exquisite little bird, knowing that it was about to be covered up by a beam for hundreds of years, or perhaps forever.  Being okay with that.  In fact, intending that.  And making it the very best I could anyway, because God hears it. 

 

It's so easy to lose perspective....

 

Signed,

Inn Vizz Ubble

 

 

 

I was reading WORLD magazine this morning over a bowl of "shredded cardboard" (as Scott calls it), and so enjoyed the article on...[drum roll in Sue's honor]...the Cardinals!  Specifically those Cardinals who are Christians - and I especially appreciated things David Eckstein had to say.

 

"Just keep working, working, working...and don't worry.  If you start worrying in this game, everything becomes even harder.  Work is your friend.  Worry is your enemy."

 

"I'm not as big as the other guys, so I've always known that I had to work real hard.  But even with all that, I couldn't do anything without God.  It's all Him.  Let Him take control.  If I go 0 for 4, I just keep working hard and praying.  I'm not anxious because I know it will turn out all right.  ...  My faith in Jesus is everything to me.  You have to understand that He's working in His way.  I've got to do everything possible to be prepared, and then to let Him take over."

 

WORLD asked him, "What do you pray for?"  Eckstein replied, "I pray not to get hurt, and that I'll be able to take the ability God gave me and multiply it."

 

The details and story of his life are so inspiring, and so is the rest of the article that touches on Looper, Pujols, Molina, Wainwright and Taguchi.

 

Okay, I'll admit it.  I've never been much of a professional baseball fan, but I'm sure a fan of THESE guys!  Take me out to the ball game....   Eckstein made my day.

 

Signed,

Uh Nu Fann 4 Shure

 

 

 

"We can only do so much to prepare and we can only live our lives with the best intentions and most sincere efforts we can.  If we do that, even in the face of life's tragedies and roadblocks, we can soldier on and be glad that, at least for now, we're doing what we love." -Brian Austin Whitney

 

"I can't change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination." -- Jimmy Dean

 

"Yesterday I dared to struggle. Today I dare to win." - Bernadette Devlin

 

Signed,

Moo Ving 4 Word

 

 

 

While we vacationed in South Dakota, we went to see 4th of July fireworks.  We've seen a lot of fireworks over the years, including several in Denver, and even a few that exploded over Grand Lake while boaters floated beneath the sparkling skies.  (That's quite a treat, if you ignore the 2-hour wait to "get out of Dodge".)

 

Guess what! The Sioux Falls display ended up being the best we've ever seen - and it was even preceded by an hour-long concert by the Sioux Falls Symphony.  Cool!  (And I always get all teary-eyed when they do that song where the different military groups stand up and are applauded.) 

 

So part way through the actual fireworks display, it hit me that each individual "firework" could be seen as a song.  Some explode on the scene in great brilliance, eliciting oohs and aahs from the crowd.  And rightly so.  Others linger and twinkle.  Some seem small and pointless in comparison, but they have their place as well.  They provide contrast and relief from the others. If all you saw and heard were the big guns, you would soon tire of it.  The beauty and allure of a fireworks display lies in how the entire show is put together.  Our core being desires variety and is fed by it.  Am I making sense?

 

So in the midst of enjoying each "fireworks song" as it was being sung in the night sky, I gradually realized that each one could also be analagous to a songwriter.  Some writers write big hit songs time after time.  Their personalities are bigger than life.  They amaze us.  They draw oohs and aahs from their listeners.  But working in the midst of, or alongside of, or even in the shadow of these writers, are other "smaller" writers who are just as important in the grand scheme of things.  Their songs are different and necessary.  Their creativity is just as valuable to God.  They tantalize us with twinkling trails of sparkling light.  They please and satisfy, while at the same time leaving room - space - to anticipate what is to come next.  It's like a well-choreographed dance, and each move has its place.  Each brings glory to God.  Each worships in its own way. 

 

I'm not sure where I belong in God's fireworks display, but I know I hold a valuable place in it because God put me there.  He packed just the right amount of explosives within me so that I can sparkle and twinkle and make noise and shine forth light in exactly the way He planned it - so that I perform my role and point to my Maker, the mastermind of the display.

 

You know what?  No matter how much I might wish I was red instead of blue, or went BOOM instead of BANG, it's not going to happen unless that's what God made me to be. 

 

Sometimes, a fireworks fails.  It's a dud.  Regardless of what it could have been, it just sort of goes "thup" and stays close to the ground.  I definitely don't want to be that.  None of us does.  But whether we're a BOOM or a BANG or a CRACKLE or a FZZZT...that really doesn't matter, as long as we're playing out our role in God's fireworks display the best we can.  (And who ever said we shouldn't play with explosives?)

 

Signed,

Awn Diss Play