The image above does not match the image I see. I see three boys with sleepy eyes and sleepy hair sitting at the kitchen table waiting for the bus to come. I see a dad writing Milk and juice and lunch money checks and the radio is broadcasting bad news, the time and temp.

If I can get from right now until tomorrow afternoon when I drive to Kansas City I will consider the last 36 hours a success. The folkstar life is a busy one and involves few to no pancakes at all. The run down includes: mailing out CDs to my superfans, going to get plants for my son's science project, taking six 3rd grade boys for swimming and ping pong after school, finishing all the work I need to do for the mailers, practicing the songs I plan to sing for people in Kansas City, making a huge schedule to tape on our door for this coming weekend when I am gone and my husband has to take our three children three different places ALL the TIME, Ash Wednesday chapel at school tomorrow, getting the oil changed in our van, finishing the song I thought I finished yesterday but didn't.

It's that last thing on the list I wish I could spend my day doing, but I can't. If I could write songs all day you know I would, but Cinderella's got chores to do, that Cinderella knows she should complete before the putting on the gown, before doing up her hair and stepping in out into the crowd. That girl who everyone sees as a gem, well most days she goes along invisible to them.

We've got moments to shine, we've got moments of toil, we've bills that need paid and vans that need new oil. We can't get what needs done in a dress that nice, so we put boots on our feet and we lace them up tight. Oh world, Oh life, the mix of highs and lows can make us laugh but sometimes they  can keep us up at night asking who are we? Are we the ones who shine? Or are we that girl that no one can see? 

So I'll do what needs done today and I'll wake up tomorrow morning with ashes on my forehead and I'll pray to the one who shaped me out of dust and ask for wisdom on this road and the strength to do the work I must. Then I'll pack up my guitar and fill the tank with gas and head southeast for a few days in my folksinger mask. I'll sing the songs I wish I could sing more, then pack my stuff up again and hurry back to my front door. Open it and find my boys waiting here for me, we'll say their prayers, hit the lights and then we'll go to sleep.