I probably need more time to process

I probably need more time to process the last 5 days in Kansas City, but I've a list the length of my arm of things that need done and so, now's my chance, so now's the time.

I took pictures of the musicians up on stage, but I took zero photos of the musicians hanging out, talking, switching between coffee and water and beer all day and living off of showcase room snacks and the occasional food truck taco. 

We sat and played songs out by the fountain in the square beside the hotel, we got in a quick conversation over breakfast sandwiches in the food court before reporting to our volunteer assignments, we took a shuttle to the children's hospital to sing songs for the patients, we learned real quick how to ditch the elevators and take the stairs up to the showcase floors and we got the guts up to say hello to people we thought were cool. I worried about my clothes and what I looked like. I learned that I need to get new shoes.

We gave a quick hug when we had the chance encounter with a friend. At Folk Alliance you just never know how much time you'll be given to touch base with anyone in the midst of the folk storm so you take the opportunity when it comes knocking. 

Before driving home yesterday after my last volunteer shift, I caught the second half of Steve Poltz's set. If there's any swan song perfect for the end of an amazing week of music, Steve Poltz can sing it. Folk Alliance has moments of wonder and moments of feeling lost. I experienced both. Steve Poltz was inspiring and joyful and he made me smile after all of it. 

My mind is inclined toward the dark sometimes and so when I got home I tried to write down all the good things that happened so as not have them disappear. That list includes all the friends I got to see and hear and who came to listen to me. That means so much. It includes discoveries- Cory Branan (pre-order his new album. Just do it), and favorites- Sam Baker and Vance Gilbert. I missed Kris Kristofferson, I missed Ani DiFranco but I did hear Billy Bragg talk.  I didn't get the guts up to talk to Sam Baker, but I listened transfixed and he made me cry. I saw my friend, Korby Lenker, make everyone sit up and take notice at his official showcase. I left that ballroom thinking his days of crashing on people's couches are numbered. He was incredible and it was so fun to watch him be so good up there. 

I have to remember the good things because driving home, I started thinking about the hard things. Being surrounded by fellow artists is so cool and also so scary. It makes you (and by "you" I mean "me") look  in the mirror and wonder if you're good enough, if you've got any chance at getting anywhere beyond where you are right now. It makes you wonder where you fit in this collection of voices, in this collection of stories. The long drive home in the quiet and the exhaustion tends to want to turn our dresses back into rags, our princes into frogs.

That's why I wrote down all the good stuff.. So as not to forget, even in the midst of the hard stuff, there is reason to give thanks. Today I'm playing music all day long and then tutoring a third grader in German. Tomorrow I'm going to work the lunch shift. I hope you write down the good stuff that comes your way. Especially if you're like me and you tend to forget. It's everywhere. 

A prayer journal, Springsteen, and a three day weekend

A prayer journal. I've had one before. I remember making them in junior high and high school at various retreats or VBS or Sunday School classes. I got a new one last weekend. It's a good way to remember who needs prayer. It's a good way to "pray without ceasing." On Wednesday we were talking about how we're losing more battles than we're winning. I wonder if that's just a feeling that comes and goes or whether that's typically the case. It's hard to measure success in every day life. Are my kids doing OK? Did I make the right choice now that will help make the future better, help me stretch more, grow closer in my relationships, become the person I could be? Or did I just maintain the same straight line? Did I make a choice to my detriment and those around me where I'll eventually have to retrace my steps? Who knows? The prayer journal is a good way to combat the Facebook Highlight reel illusion that helps us not at all. Everyone's going through something. Everyone's showing up to this life every day and giving it a go. The prayer journal is a great way to remember that and respond to my neighbor with mercy and love.  I'm glad I have one again. 

Springsteen. The book. I've heard the interviews, read the reviews and now Emily lent me her copy so I can read it. I haven't cracked it open yet because I'm afraid. Just like I'm afraid to listen to Lori McKenna albums. I fear listening will crack me open too much. And nobody wants that. Springsteen makes me cry because his dedication to truth and honesty is so unwavering. That guy's doing it for all the right reasons and thank God for that. Will the book gut me? Probably not. I know. I'm way over dramatic. Also, I'm really excited to read it. Because I love him.

A three day weekend and I've got no gigs and all five of us are together today. A rare occurrence. They predict spring-like temps. We shall go outside. We shall shop for a wedding gift, we shall savor the time we're given before it's gone. I leave next Wednesday for Kansas City. Come Sunday it's band practice and going to a show. The time is now. The weekend is here. I am so thankful we have today. Now let's have some bacon (I can't eat it but I can smell it). 

The low down from the hometown

We've had some beautiful days here in Nebraska. A respite from the cold. On Saturday afternoon, after returning from a Clergy Wives retreat, Jon and I took a sunny walk down the dirt road and it wasn't even windy. That's a win in my world. One of the break out sessions during the retreat was about healthy eating and increased activity. And getting a discount on a Fitbit. So I'm in.

On Sunday Star Belle had a great rehearsal. We plugged in and tried out our new toys- mics, D.I boxes, and sound system and it made we want a clubhouse all over again. If only we had a super sweet fort where we had a stage and some couches and maybe a mini-fridge and we could go there to rehearse? That'd be awesome. For now, we'll content ourselves with three hours in the church basement and some snacks. We are preparing for our upcoming show in Hastings at The Listening Room on March 4th. That night we're recording the show for a live album. You're gonna want that album.

You know what else? Emily and I are going into the studio again at the end of February to finish up tracking for our Bluestem Psalter album. This one has been in the works for some time, it has been on the back burner for a while waiting for us to get back to it and make it a reality. This is a cool project that we're really looking forward to sharing with the world. It's getting closer and closer.

And then you know what else? I'm going to Chicago in March to start tracking on my new solo album. Again, it's been a long time coming. Let's get this show on the road. I'm going to be doing a Kickstarter in hopes of getting some help to make it the best album possible. If you have a great idea for rewards you might be interested in,  I'd love to hear them. Tutoring sessions in Spanish? Done. Songs written just for you? Of course. Sending my boys out to do your chores? Maybe.

So there you have it: three album projects in two months. Crazy? You betcha. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I quit my job to do more music. By golly, I'm doing more music.

In the meantime, we've got basketball games after school today,  parent-teacher conferences tomorrow and I'm bringing food for the potluck, one last kinda quiet weekend before Folk Alliance next week. I get tired just thinking of it.

Be brave, be bold, consider the lilies, go outside, scroll through a seed selling website in anticipation of spring,  remember what's real and what isn't. Let the love shine in. Peace.

St. Louis and the news

It's Friday in St. Louis and I'm laying low, taking it slow and getting ready for tonight's house concert. I arrived into town on Tuesday. I played on Open Mic night at 1900 Park, a venue owned by my friends, Eric and Janel. I love playing there and I love coming to a town where I can meet up with friends and feel right at home. Before I had even made it to 1900 Park, I stopped by Concordia Seminary where my husband, Jon, studied and met up with our good friend, Josh, who was in town for a symposium. I got there just just about 10 minutes before he was supposed to leave for the airport. It was so great. And there we were, talking in the street, when who should walk down the path? Ben Haupt. Ben was in school the same time we were and we spent the same year together in Oberursel, Germany. Life is crazy and amazing.  

An unexpected meeting of old friends, then an evening of new songs and making new friends and then I drove over to Mark and Leigh's where they've been kind enough to host me this week. 

I love St. Louis. I have great memories of living here right after Jon and I got married. Our first apartment, my first job, our first year of life together. Great times. 

This visit has been filled with them. Great times. Why do I love music so much? Because of feelings and friendship and togetherness. But most of all, I love music because it creates a space that you've never seen before. The evening, the people who gather, the artists who play, the feel of the room. It's different every time and it offers something priceless that only exists for as long as the evening lasts and then it's gone. I love that. 

Tuesday was new music, a great space, old friends, a chance to reconnect after time apart.  

Wednesday was an amazing room full of open ears and open hearts and four songwriters who were completely in sync and dialed in to the moment for the whole show. It was incredible. The best kind of evenings are when the artist and the audience are in step with one another. That's what Wednesday was. It was the best kind of evening. 

Thursday was walking into a place I'd never been to to find of group of ukulele players circled up and singing songs. I can't resist that so I sat down in the empty chair in the circle and joined in. We were all strangers and then we weren't. We were friends and were singing and laughing and having a great time. From there, Bob, Jane and I took the stage and we had a great time playing songs and having fun. Bob and Jane are such great songwriters and such kind, friendly people that it made playing a real pleasure.  

Tonight's the house concert. Tonight's the one where I play all the songs. I'm really excited about it because these gatherings are always special. That I get to sing for my dear friends at their house makes it even better. 

Tomorrow I'll pack up and head home. I miss my boys, I miss my husband. I take refuge in knowing that I'll be home for a while and will have a chance to catch up after some lost time.  

I'm just so thankful for these days and these moments and these people who fill my life. You're one of them. I'll see you out there. If you haven't had a chance recently to find the kind of magic that I've been describing, well, I would say now's the time to walk into an unfamiliar room filled with unfamiliar faces and see for yourself how music makes the stranger feel right at home. 

California was hard, California was great

My last blog post was about being nervous about playing a show in my home town. 

Playing a show in my hometown was amazing. It was the best. It was a big group hug and I'll never forget it.

I got on a plane early last Thursday morning. When I landed I got a message from my dad saying he had suffered a heart attack the night before. Katerina picked me up from the airport and we went straight to the hospital. Needless to say, the trip I had was different than the trip I had anticipated, but even in hard times, the sun shines through the clouds. 

I spent lots of time with my mom and dad, my brother and my sister in law and their kiddos. I saw lots of old friends who've known me since I was a kid and, in the end, I did play the show at the party that my dad had organized, but he wasn't there. 

He was at home resting after being released from the hospital earlier that day. My mom, my brother and I were there to welcome everyone and receive all the kindness that was being showered on our family during a tough few days.

In the mean time Mom and I went to yoga, we went shopping at the mall. Billy, Emily and the kids came over for dinner and we sang songs together and laughed and talked and ate hummingbird cake that Emily made to celebrate my dad's birthday. It was Soooooo gooood. 

Jane and I had a long lunch in Laguna on Wednesday before I left and it was so great to catch up. She's the best. It is such a blessing to have a friend where you just pick up where you left off the last time you saw each other and it's all good. 

Now I'm home. Now it's time to work. The thought of going back out on Tuesday hurts my heart, but I'll be home again soon enough. What did I learn again for the first time? Music is a language that can cut through when it can be hard to come up with the right thing to say. Family is priceless. Love is abounding. Now, go do your thing. I'm cheering for you.

California I'm coming home

I'm going to California tomorrow which means today is one last ditch effort to get everything done as well as possible to leave my husband with resources at his finger tips like clean clothes, clean dishes, a living room that one could walk through without suffering injury.

I hear it's raining back at home. I'm so glad for them. They need the rain. I'm so mad at them. I need the sun. Come on, California! Work with me! I'm in the sub zeros over here like a sucker for weeks and the one time I decide to clear out and head west, you're telling me it's a high of 62 and chance of rain?!!! Say what?!! It's fine. 62 is still going to feel better that 15. I just needed to freak out in short paragraph form and now I'm better.

When I go home I'm going to play a show for my friends and family. I've never done this before. I'm reminded of Jesus trying to talk to folks in his hometown and coming away with, "A prophet is without honor in his own hometown."  Now, I'm no Jesus, but I get what he's saying. How can a girl with bad hair and a reputation for being a slacker get up and start singing semi-autobiographical songs (and others ones) and connect with someone who remembers that I was the girl scout who never sold any cookies, who was absent from school too much on questionable grounds and who kidnapped those exchange students that one time to take them to a party? Would a listener be inclined to listen to someone like that? I can only hope so. The pep talk presently stands at: I can't change the past, but I can show up and let them see the present version of me. 

I got a new dress from the clearance rack at Target yesterday. I took my son to get braces. I practiced some poor crafting skills by making a poster for church, I shuttled kids to practices and in the in between I wrote  some lines for a new song, I mulled over another that's not quite done yet. California is going to be great, but I'm going to miss my people who will stay here at home. 

I hope when my boys grow up they get excited about the prospect of coming back and playing a show for all of us. I hope they know how much we'll be cheering them on. 

Looking back and looking forward

Here's a list of highlights from 2016:

Professionally: Opening for Darrell Scott (this has been a goal of mine for 7 years), going to Texas with Darryl Purpose, singing at The Bluebird Cafe for the first time, opening for the legendary Tom Paxton, singing my own show at Swallow Hill in Denver, Star Belle at FARM for the first time, jumping up on stage with DRL to sing harms, and getting up on stage with the Dixie Chicks (that was a complete stroke of luck, but I had to add it in).

 Personally: seeing my brothers and their families more this year than in the past, going to Bend, OR on family retreat to celebrate my parents 50th wedding anniversary, watching my boys play in the band and sing in the choir and play on the team, going to Indiana for a week to hang at the lake, fish, catch turtles go out on the boat, going to Denver for the weekend to celebrate Keith's 40th birthday, another magical week of Song School, going to Andy's CD release party on an icy night in Lincoln, and enjoying this home and this family and these friends all around me.

My brother passed away suddenly in 2016. We were not close and he had been troubled all his life. Life moves on without him until I'm suddenly struck by how he's gone. I confess I withheld love and gentleness and mercy from him while he was alive. When I'm struck by his being gone I'm reminded that I gain nothing from protecting my ability to love and only giving it out to people I think worthy. That's crap. In memory of him, I want to be careless with my love and mercy and gentleness. It's not like any of that stuff runs out and if I'm seen as foolish, then so be it. No one gets a reward for hiding lamps under bushels. No one gets a reward for classifying their neighbors into worthy and unworthy.

My friends and I have decided to be braver this year than last year. Whose coming to save you? Nobody. You better start swimming. What are you waiting for? Nothing. The time is now. In the spirit of urgency where we're not promised a tomorrow and we're not promised smooth sailing, we dare to press on in pursuit of what we desire. Be brave so that others become brave. That's what we're going to do. And we're going to get tattoos and dress up and embrace our alien identities. Kicking ass starts now.

2017 will be more standing in awe of my sons as they grow up. It'll be practicing more letting go and letting them become the people God has created them to be. They're not mine. They never were. I just get to help them along until they can do it themselves. As they get older I'm struck by how hard it is to watch them walk away. There were so many years when they were right here beside me, but that's only for a season. The process of working yourself out of a job as a mother is so great,  and also heart-wrenching. 2017 will have more of that. 

For now, Jon's off to Chicago after church. I'm on the couch and Joey's on the couch and pretty soon I'll have to wake up the other two boys for church. We'll go to church, remember our identity as beloved children of God, we'll come home and take down the Christmas tree. I'll fold laundry and hope to find a moment when I can pick up the guitar. Happy New Year.

How the story ends

The story started with a stressed out woman breaking down at Bible study group on Wednesday feeling the pressure of too much to do in too little time.

That night, after the cooking and the errands and the mailing off of packages a little too late, I put on my church dress with my guitar in hand. I dropped off my side dishes and desserts at the potluck and then headed down to the sanctuary to rehearse and get ready for the service.

Like I do so often, I had taken a blessing and turned it into a burden. I was looking at everything with eyes of fear afraid of making a mistake. I saw the chance to love my family and honor them with gifts as a test that I would fail and so reveal, once again, how far off the mark I am from day to day. And that kind of worry and anxiety is never whispered from heaven, it's only ever the voice of the enemy.

That night, in my worry and anxiety, I stood up in front of the congregation beside a group of high school students and we made a joyful noise. I can tell you right when my fear and worry melted away. We were singing the chorus,

“So sing out for joy for the brave little boy who was God but he made himself nothing.
Well he gave up his pride and he came here to die like a man.”

And I heard all those voices singing out, the violin coming in soaring over the drums and I looked to our youth leader, Josh, playing guitar to my left and we smiled at each other because it was as great as we had hoped it would be and just like that the burden was lifted.

The rest of the evening was awesome. Not just because the music was great and the young people of our community and congregation were singing and playing their hearts out, but because my heart had been healed. Again. It was like God came to me and said, "Let me remind you how much I love you. Let me remind you of how none of this is riding on you because I've already done all the hard stuff for you. So sit back, relax and do what you can. 'Come unto me all you who are weary and I will give you rest. For my yolk is easy and my burden is light.'" 

That's true. After Wednesday's service I worked all Thursday getting ready for the Christmas Eve program. There was lots of do and not that much time to get it done, but I felt set free. I still feel that. And it was such a significant change in perspective that I had to tell you guys about it.

The Christmas Eve service was great, we ate meatballs and I wore high heels. We went to church on Christmas morning, Sammy played in the brass ensemble, then we came home, opened gifts and went to Paul and Emily's. The kids played and had a grand time. We feasted on roast beast and talked about the art of the homily (among other things).

What I learned is that peace can be hard to come by even when it's staring us in the face sometimes. We do make life harder than it really is simply by imagining that we are the ones in control. Jesus showed up in the middle of nowhere to a bunch of nobodies. He doesn't hand out love according to our resumes. He didn't come for just the cool kids, he came for all the kids. He looks at us running like hamsters on wheels and says, "You look like you could use a break." And we do. And He gives us one. Forever. Merry Christmas.

O Christmas Triage

O Christmas Triage. 'Tis the season of putting fingers in the holes of dams, stopping the bleeding on one patient then running to the woods to try and put out the fire before it reaches the house. 'Tis the season of the holiday concert, the term paper, the gift exchange, the giving tree, the Advent services, the meals before the Advent services, the rehearsals, and the Sunday School Christmas Eve program.  O Christmas Triage. I shall be glad to see you go.

And that's why there's no tree, there are no gifts, there is no sign that Christmas is on Sunday at my house. And today's the day I have to do it all. 

Maybe it was because the negative temps that kept me indoors this weekend. Maybe instead of cross-stitching, I should have been online shopping. Who knows?

If you're like me and gift giving is not a talent nor a love language, the season can be fraught with stress. If you're like me, it feels like a competition that you never got the rules to and you're five days behind everyone else standing their helpless while the rest of the teams are buzzing around you erecting tepees  made out of gingerbread and decorating cookies at break neck speed. Who knows?

Today I'm gonna try and stop the bleeding. I'm not getting out of there until the last gift is purchased and there's a tree stuffed in my mini-van. 

O Christmas Triage. Just another day in the operating room. Merry merry. Nurse, scalpel.

The New American Prairie School

It was about a year ago that I started writing songs and throwing them up on Facebook haphazardly. I needed a way to stay accountable. I needed the feeling of vulnerability and I was trying to honor the idea of not over-thinking the work, just throw it out and see what sticks. 

Yesterday I took a moment to look back on some of the songs and I thought that the collection of Facebook songs could  be an album. It's kinda sloppy, real authentic and a little all over the place. I like it. What I like is that each song is such a moment in time. I'm a pretty fast writer so listening to the songs puts me right back in that small moment in time and what I was thinking about or doing on a particular day. When people ask how I came up with an idea for a song, I usually don't have a clear memory of it, but I do have a clear memory of what was going on that day outside of the song. That makes each piece kinda like a treasure map. Like that movie where The Constitution has a map written in invisible ink on it that you can only see with special glasses that Ben Franklin hid in a bell tower back in the 1700s. That's what it's like.

In looking through the songs, I noticed a comment from a friend saying that I need to create a new genre called  "The New American Prairie" style. I had forgotten that, but I spent yesterday thinking about it and how I would like to start my own genre, now that you mention it. Connie is a smart cookie so I'm going to listen to her and do it. The New American Prairie style is simple, conversational and rooted in every day life. What we lack in scenery, we make up for in honesty.

The New American Prairie artists are working with what they've got, making something out of nothing and showing up for the art when the sun comes up. In Nebraska we joke that our state motto should be, "Nebraska: Bring something to do" and that's exactly what the NAP writers do. Because in considering my own genre, I thought immediately of fellow NAP artists. Emily Dunbar- telling the story of life in a small town raising a family and finding beauty in the every day moments. Andy Miller- part folkie/ part sad guy country artist laying his heart out on the line in a voice all his own. Gunter Volker- telling stories and weaving rhymes that put the listener in 1926 and then put the listener back in 2016 with a gentle confidence only a great wordsmith can manage , and then his band, Jack Hotel, turns them into amazing journeys of sound and song. Ben Freeman- lighting a candle for truth tellers everywhere and unapologetically narrating darkness and loneliness, the kind that's hardest to handle on the plains. Star Belle Ukulele Band sings itself out of the chains over and over again. Star Belle falls down, then writes itself back up on its feet. That's what a pioneer does. That's what we do. And me? I try and write cool lines and then get lost in stupid metaphors I can't pull off. Then three days later I ask myself, "What are you trying to say?" And I remember that whatever it is I'm trying to say, well, then, those are the lines. Use that. Stop trying to be a poet and just be honest and clunky instead. Stop planning, and just start digging. That's what the prairie is all about.

Now we need to get together. We need a hoot, we need some beers, we need the school to be in session. We already are. We're doing our thing and running into each other every once in a while. We're just being us. We don't know how to be anything else. Remember. You heard it here first. Thanks, Connie.

Writing in a crowd

My parents are here visiting for the holidays. We are living it up and adding more chairs around the kitchen table. They arrived from California last Tuesday. We've been to Thanksgiving church, we've feasted with Josh and Eva, we've walked the dirt road, watched the older boys sing in the Seward Choir and yesterday we churched, lunched, swam, shopped, dined and were home by nine.

Today is my first day off and I'm super tired. I've got three songs in the works right now and am trying to adjust to the new reality of writing in a crowd. 

Typically I write songs when no one else is home. Sometimes I write when I'm alone at the kitchen table and the kids are in their rooms or watching TV downstairs. I don't usually write songs in a hive of activity, but I'm thinking that's what's going to have to happen in order to get this work done. 

Song number one is writing to a ridiculous prompt. It's halfway done. I just need to sit down and finish it. Song number two is a lick and melody and nothing else. This is the harder one to write. I have a history of not being able to put words to music, but I'm gonna give it a shot.

Song number three hit me while sitting in the jacuzzi at the Community Center yesterday. It's the heart piece. The one I know I have to write. I even wrote the words down onto my phone to make sure I wouldn't forget it. But now what?

Do I disappear to some yet-to-be-discovered place without people or do I try and work through the tricky conditions? Writing while the house is full and active feels like doing crack at the dinner table. Or, ya know, putting on panty hose in the living room. Or gutting a fish under a Christmas tree. Off kilter, too exposed and it raises lots of questions. 

When we were first parents, we traveled with our baby boy all over the place. We were in England, Spain, Germany and all of those places offered crazy circumstances. You learn real quick that you don't always have a nice cozy spot for taking care of your baby so you do it out in the open. You change diapers on park benches, you feed him when he's hungry, you sooth him at the back of the church, you do clothing changes on the bus. You just do what needs to be done wherever you happen to be. 

Fast forward 13 years and I've got a pen, paper, and a guitar I try and play really quietly so as not to arouse suspicion and not getting any of the work done I'd really like to do. I'm struggling with doing what needs to be done in the midst of everything around me.

It's a Monday. The kids are out the door, the house is in a shambles. The list is long and I'm torn between the work and the work that's calling me. We all know this one. We all know the pull of the laundry and the pull of the muse and they usually lead in opposite directions. I've got to be there for both. I've got to be there and brave the crowd. We all do. 

Now it feels heavier.

When I started writing songs it was like starting a wildfire. I remember writing all the time. In the first few months I had written dozens of crappy songs and I would not stop. 

Have you ever read that quote from Ira Glass about how our ability and taste don't match up when we first start writing or pursuing really anything we love? We have high standards for what we find beautiful and worthy, but when we're just starting out we can't create anything that passes muster. His words matched my experience perfectly. So I wrote and wrote and wrote in pursuit of a better version of what I had written previously.

Also it felt like a super power. Like I woke up one morning and could start fire and hold it in my hand. I was so afraid that if I let it linger, if I didn't pick up the pen, then I'd wake up one morning and it would be gone, so I never let too much time go by without writing because the thought of losing this new super power was terrifying.

Fast forward nine years. Now it's still me with a pen in my hand, but it's harder. I have these past songs breathing down my neck, it's harder to find that fire and hold it in the palm of my hand. I know where the mark the is. I know what the song should be and knowing that gets me a little scared and doubtful. 

I had a conversation with a successful songwriter a couple of summers back. We were eating off of cafeteria trays propped on our laps under a tent for shade at a BBQ where the beer was free. I call him "Professor" in my mind. The professor was expressing this very sentiment that I am feeling now. The words are out there, but they're harder to find and there's no point in digging if you don't know what you're mining for. The songs from the past can turn into stones around your neck so heavy that it's hard to climb up to the next peak. I get it. I see what he means. I'm not like him, he's cool and I'm not that cool, but at the time I didn't see what he meant. At the time I tried to help. I meant well. If I find myself talking to him again at a BBQ with free beer, I think I'll just let his words soak in and nod my head and eat my apple pie in silence.

Silence. It's everywhere. I'd like to break through it and that's what I'm trying to do. Nine years ago it was easy to break through. Now it feels heavier. Now it feels  like one line at a time is a good day. One line at a time reminds me that the fire's not out yet.

If I didn't know my neighbors

If I didn't know my neighbors I would be poorer. I would be poorer in spirit and in material possessions. Part of me longs to be anonymous and so to remedy this longing, I go out of town and play shows for strangers. I really like meeting strangers, but then I get to come home where I wave to everyone and they wave back to me. When my brother died last spring, a neighbor sent a check to cover our plane tickets. When we were expecting our third son and only had a Honda Civic, friends from church came over to our house and gave us their mini-van. When I was by myself in the back of the church on Sunday morning with three kids 4 and under, my neighbors came and sat with me and held my babies for me. In the fall, our neighbors come over with trash bags full of freshly butchered meat they share with us. Our neighbors know our children and let me know when they are riding their bikes uptown without paying attention to the traffic. If I didn't know my neighbors I wouldn't be able to help them in their time of need and they wouldn't know to help me. There is something romantic about walking down a crowded street of a new city by yourself taking it all in. But there's something blessed and priceless about living in a place where we've created a huge extended family. When the retired band teacher who gives music lessons suddenly dies, he is missed by everyone. We need each other. That's a hard lesson to learn without your neighbors.

Tonight our friends are taking us out to Bee, NE. It's another small town famous for its fish fry. We're going there for the fish fry. 

Last Friday my neighbors and friends came to the Olde Glory Theatre in Seward, NE for an evening of music I shared with my friends, Mare and Nomad. It was a great night. Mare and Nomad made the drive all the up from Nashville to sing this show with me. Afterward we treated ourselves to late night Mexican food. We got to the restaurant right before they were closing the kitchen. We had a chance to catch up and talk about how great the show was. It was a quick visit, but it was delightful. 

My husband, Jon, came up to play with me for a couple of songs. That's always special.

Last week when I didn't know the results of the presidential election I made the decision to quit my job. It's time. 

Maybe it was the change in the air, perhaps it was the Cubs winning the World Series, or maybe I just realized I was waiting around for something that might never come on its own. I decided it's time to go all in and do music. 

For the last few months I've craved long stretches of time for making something, but long stretches are real hard to come by. Presently I have three album projects in various stages. I have work that's unfinished and it's time to start finishing it. Quitting my day job and getting to the real work is what I'm gonna do. It might be that I'm begging for my job back in six months, but for now I'm going all in. Because what am I waiting for?

If I didn't know my neighbors I wouldn't feel half as confident in this decision. When I'm gone my neighbors know that my boys will need someone to sit with at church. My neighbors know when I'm playing a show and make a point to ask me how it went. If I didn't know my neighbors it would be a lot harder to make the leap. I like going out and meeting people and seeing new things. It's even better knowing that I've got this beautiful place to come home to at the end of it. 

IN closing, a BIG shout out to Rex Walton for his photos taken at the Olde Glory show AND during my first concertwindow.com show this week. Rex, you're awesome.

Getting back and getting on

Star Belle hobbled back into town on last Sunday afternoon. For mothers with kids it was a quick turn around to Halloween on Monday. It meant lots of last minute getting of things, carving of pumpkins and roasting of pumpkin seeds. (Mom, they said, Mom, let's roast pumpkin seeds, they said! Come on, Mom!..and then I did and then those sad little pumpkin seeds sat forgotten on the table. I shoulda seen that coming, I said.)

It was a beautiful night to be trick or treating. The town was out, we saw our friends and our neighbors walking the streets. People had fires in fire pits on their driveways, Halloween lights strung, candy, candy, candy and no need for a jacket. Jon stayed at the house passing out candy and I walked with the younger boys. My thirteen year old decided to stay home, but when he got a call to go over to a friend's house at 8:30pm he was so excited, he yelled goodbye, hopped on his bike and was gone. We came home with pillow cases full of candy just like I did when I was a kid. We stayed up too late and dragged ourselves out of bed the next morning. Good times.

The younger boys didn't need me with them. Next year they can go out on their own. The older boy is so smart and funny and responsible, he's got it together like a boss. It's like I looked up one day and they were older than I remembered. I looked up one day and the distance between them and me had grown wider, not because they don't need me, but because they don't need me in the same way as before. I see them navigating the world more and more on their own and I get to stand back and watch and be ready if they need me. Otherwise, my job is slowly turning into the roadie and guitar tech off stage. They play the show, I help them get the right gear for the gig. I'm waiting in the wings in case the set falls down, but other than that, I'm support. It's not my show anymore. It's awesome and it's heartbreaking.

We listened to the World Series on the radio in the living room. I tried to explain to my children that it was history. I have a secret love for baseball that doesn't get quenched much. Back when we lived in St. Louis we were given tickets to Cardinals games over the years and I fell in love with the ballpark. There is nothing like it. It feels magical to me. Listening to the game on the radio you'd think would be frustrating, but it wasn't. It was magical and, for one night, America kicked ass and we all loved it. I loved it. My kids, however, didn't grasp the import. Kids.

I started a stupid diet on Monday and I've stuck with my stupid diet this whole week. I use this stupid diet app where you log everything you put in your mouth and it calculates the calories and exercise and then, at the end of the day, it projects how much you'll weigh in five weeks if you stick with your stupid calorie in take. The ample use of the word "stupid" would imply that I don't want to be on a diet and that's true, but I chose this and I like to think that the more days I stick with this stupid diet, the less inclined I'll be to call it stupid. That sounds reasonable, right? Here's hoping.

Tonight my friends come in to town and we're going to play a show. My friend Lloyd is the hero of tonight because he took it upon himself to sell all the tickets. I'm not known for my self-promotion skills, Lloyd knows that and became my champion. I wrote a song for him last year when his wife passed away. I don't think he's ever heard it. I wonder when I'll ever get a chance to sing it for him. It's pretty sad, but when I sing it I can see him and Carol sitting across from one another at table 8 at the restaurant and we're talking about Hawaii and the Pearl Harbor memorial and then he's teasing her and she's half smiling and half rolling her eyes. We all wish we could be like Lloyd and Carol. 

So that's what's up. The kids are growing up, we're getting on, the sun still shines and the Cubs won the World Series. I log my calories for a hard-boiled egg and sip my herbal tea so I'm not fat when I turn forty. I get up at 5am (today) to help my son brown hamburger meat and get ready for his Boy scout camping trip that starts after school and I figure out what songs to sing for tonight's show while cleaning the downstairs bathroom. That's how you do it. Happy Friday.

Star Belle goes to Iowa City and then comes home again

Star Belle usually meets for practice at one of our houses once a week or once every two weeks. We work on our songs, manage the kids, have a beer and then dash off to our next thing. Our busy season is usually in the summer during town festivals and fairs, and then we might do a few shows around the holidays. We sing folk and country songs with guitars and ukuleles. A couple of times we went to Denver for a ukulele music festival. It was super cool.

Star Belle has to juggle kids and families and jobs. We sing songs about love and fun and life in Nebraska. We've made local news, local newspapers and the Nebraska Life Magazine. We play almost exclusively in Nebraska and we have lots of fun doing it.

This past weekend the band went on a field trip to Iowa City for Folk Alliance Region Midwest's annual conference. We wanted to dip our toes into that pond, play some private showcases and see if people connected with our work across state lines. We think people connected to the music.

It was awesome. We had so much fun. We played our songs and people liked them. We heard tons of inspiring music and we got excited for the future and where it'll take us. It was exhausting like it always is and uplifting as it always is and we're home now and excited to get to work making plans and making those plans a reality. We always say how much we love band practice. Band field trips are even better!

I went to FARM as a solo performer also (two hats, one conference). A couple of days before the conference I was on a run down a long dirt road and this thought hit me, "I need a champion." I just need one person who believes in my work and has a voice and platform bigger than mine. If I had a champion, then that could help me get somewhere. 

Two days later I'm standing in my driveway with my bags and guitar and conference crap scattered around me and what do you think I get? An unexpected email from someone telling me exactly how they'd like to help me make my music because they believe in the work I'm doing. 

SAY. WHAT??!!That pretty much blew my mind. It still is kinda hard to believe such generosity showed up at my door of its own accord.

At the conference I had two different artists and friends of mine tell me they've been watching my work and following my story. It was a gift to hear their words and receive their encouragement. Over here where I live there are lots of dirt roads, everything's on a grid and, presently, I find myself at a crossroads trying to make the moves I need to make to get a little further down the way. Just when I'm feeling lost and questioning whether or not to turn around, a kind note, a voice from a friend, a surprise pat on the back appears out of nowhere and I find the strength to keep going. Thanks, everybody.

I'm home now. I've got kids and church and band practice and work and bugs by the garage door. I'm meditating on the love of others freely given and praying for wisdom to know how to honor it well. And also find where the bugs are coming from. 

FARMing, The Walking Dead, Dav Pilkey and life

Tomorrow I get in the car with my two other Star Belles and go to Iowa City for the Folk Alliance Region Midwest conference. This is the first time the band is venturing east and playing at a conference. More than anything I'm looking forward to seeing friends again and hearing the music. I'm looking forward to big cups of coffee and late night jams, fall colors and more gigs. For some reason these days feel a little trickier than most. Playing music always helps.

The Walking Dead. It's the only show I tune in for faithfully. It's the only show that I love talking about all year long. I love it. Which is weird because I don't like scary things or gross things, but I love the Walking Dead. I love the character, the whole empty world, the leaves on the road, the herds of walkers who flop between witless cows and surprisingly quick carnivores. All of it. Jon and I watched the season premier on Monday night and, let's just say, I was looking forward to the end of the episode. I just wanted to get it over with. The trailers leading up the premier made it clear that it was going to be a, pardon the term, "shitstorm," and they made good on that teaser. At least Morgan and Carol are somewhere out there and they can save the group from the depravity of man. Let's hope so. Yikes.

In other news, last night we took the boys to Concordia University where Dav Pilkey spoke as part of his book tour for "Dog Man." If you don't know Dav Pilkey, he's the author of a series called, "Captain Underpants" which our boys think are some of the funniest books on the planet. I remember when Sammy and I went to Germany when he was in kindergarten. I read to him one of the books on the train and I remember trying to stifle our laughter so as not to bother the quiet commuters around us. Sam is thirteen now and was dragging his feet saying he was too old to enjoy a presentation by the author, but the author delivered like a pro. I wish all my songwriting and artist buddies were there to hear him talk of his journey to do what he was called to do no matter what. He got 23 rejections from publishers for his first book. The 24th letter was the good one and the rest is history. He gave a super funny and engaging presentation that had us all laughing and inspired. Don't give up. Follow your passion. Keep working at it. 

I finished a song yesterday. I rediscovered a couple of songs I had completely forgotten about. I sent a vulnerable email in an effort to put myself out there more. I'm trying to hone in on a song that I've been kicking around for a couple of months. I don't want to tread water. I want to get somewhere or turn the boat around. I don't want to sit here doing nothing hoping someone finds me. I'm not gonna give up. I'm going to follow my passion. I'm going to keep working at it. It's been a long, beautiful fall here in Nebraska. The mornings start cool and the days get warm. Pretty soon the farmers will be done with the harvest and the earth will get sleepy and go quiet. I've started working on music for Advent and Christmas. The boys do their homework at the kitchen table and play football out in the yard with kids in the neighborhood. I'm going to pick up the guitar and write it down. 

Candy bags, days off, and days off kilter

Candy bags. It's that time of year again. We went to our school's Trunk or Treat Halloween night last night. It's the end of the fall quarter and, to celebrate, all the kids dress up in non-scary costumes, we eat hot dogs, chips and s'mores, play with a parachute, go through a spooky labyrinth (built by the 5th/6th graders) and get candy out in the parking lot where moms and dads stand beside their cars and pass out sweet treats. I was three pieces of candy short. I had nothing to hand out to the last three kids. D'oh.

Now we have a day off and the pillow cases of candy are slung over the shoulders of boys in pajamas with bedhead and, you know what? I'm not fighting it. It's all part of it. It's that time of year again. I'll introduce vegetables and nutrition again soon, but I'm gonna give them this moment.

We've got a day off over here and considering yard clean up, taking the glass to Lincoln (we drive our recycling in) and finally getting around to loading the dishwasher. I need to get out on that dirt road for a run or something, but it looks cold requiring the under armor.  Any movement is good movement. 

Any movement is good movement when you're living off kilter day after day. I'm trying to get out. I'm trying to feel better, but it feels real hard right now. If I could write something, I would. If I could be better, I would. I get glimpses of light and feeling like I can do it and then this big shadow darkens everything all over again and I'm afraid. I have cool posters for this upcoming show. I can't bring myself to put them up. I've got to get some gigs, but I can't write the emails. I can't write the songs. I can't. It sucks. You'd think one step forward would lend itself to another, but it doesn't feel that way right now.

Maybe I need my own candy bag slung over my shoulder. Maybe I should stay in these jammies with this bedhead and the kilter will come off. With sugar. Lots of sugar.

Songs are important

I was in a bad head space last night. There's been no time for thinking, no time for writing, no time for decompressing and I wish there were. I want to write something, but am sad that I haven't carved out the time wherein I can carve out a song. So I was doing the dishes and thinking about songs. The soundtrack to my life and stuff. That always cheers me up. I hope it cheers you up too to think about those songs that are irrevocably attached to a moment and memory. We've all got 'em. Here's a sampling. These memories and songs get me every time.

"Old Rugged Cross" by Mahalia Jackson. My dad loves Mahalia Jackson. He had a cassette of a live show by Mahalia Jackson that we all listened to over and over again. Mahalia Jackson had phrasing we only wish we could do. She took a line and pulled it out like taffy and we hung on every sound in between the silence and her backing band just let me lead the way. Amazing. The cassette is gone. I've looked and looked for that recording, but I can't find it because I don't ever remember knowing exactly what it was. If I find it I will sing along with the whole darn thing and I will cry while I'm doing it.

"Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel. Live in Central Park was my introduction to their music. My best friend, Greg, and I sang this song for a Pops Concert at our high school freshman year. We sang it over and over again and we killed it. It felt so good to hear our voices blend like that. I hear that song and smile.

"O Mio Bambino Caro" sung by Kiri Te kanawa. There was a time when I was studying classical voice in high school and college. I discovered the most romantic movie ever in the whole world, "A Room with a View". I bought the soundtrack and listened to this song over and over again. Holy Buckets. Her voice was so flippin' amazing and I tried singing along with her and did it poorly. 

"One Tree Hill" by U2. In 1993 I went to Paraguay as an AFS exchange student. I brought my Sony Walkman and a few tapes with me. Joshua Tree was one of them. I remember putting on those headphones and walking around my village of Villarrica.That whole album reminds me of Paraguay 1993. It felt so surreal to be in a place so different from the one I called home. I fell in love with it. Ever since then I've always found that it's so much easier not fitting in when it's so clear that you don't fit in. That's why living abroad feels good. You never even consider fitting is as a possibility.

"Linger" by The Cranberries. And then I came home and it was a brand new kind of foreign feeling trying to get back into my old life with my new self. Greg picked me up in his car (everybody had their licenses when I got back) and I remember driving around with the windows down listening to The Cranberries. That afternoon, listening to that song, it felt like I could figure out how to exist again because my friends were there to welcome me back home. 

"A Case of You" by Joni Mitchell. My first day of college I met girls who would become my best friends for my whole life. Up until then I was kind of a lazy music listener. I never went looking for anything, but I would cling to what I had found in the passing sounds. Then I met Amy who brought with her an amazing collection of music that she shared with me. "Blue" was one she leant me. What a gift. I had never heard anything like it. I heard things from her collection that I never would've found on my own and I am so thankful. I finally learned how to play this one a few years back. It was like unlocking a treasure chest.

"Ojala" by Silvio Rodriguez. There's life before hearing this song and life after hearing this song. I was studying in Granada, Spain and I had a friend, Alex, who played guitar, was super funny and had already been everywhere. He played me this song and it was so haunting and so beautiful. He was like a Paul Simon in Spanish with Leonard Cohen mixed in. Alex played it on his guitar and I remember it being the first time I actually wanted to play the guitar at all. Just to learn this song. A few years later someone gave me a mix tape and it had Silvio's "Nuestro Tema" on it. I couldn't believe that his music had magically appeared to me again. Then, years and years later, I was at Song School and there was this guy named Richard Shindell. I had never heard of him. He taught a class. I took the class. I thought he was cool. He played the main stage at Folks Fest and I loved his set so much I went to the merch tent and bought every album he had. Listening one day, I hear him sing "Que hago ahora contigo?." I immediately loved it. The song was written by Silvio Rodriguez. And there he was again like a unicorn sighting. He comes from a different world than I do, he's doing work I can't possibly achieve, but hearing him feels like home to me. Thank God for unicorn sightings. You never know when they'll show up.

Songs are important. That's why I love them. That's why I spend so much time on them. Start writing down your memories and songs. But don't worry if you don't. One day, you'll hear a song and immediately you'll be back at your 13th birthday party at the Skating Rink for backwards skate. You can't help it. The songs hold all of it for you until you hear it again.

I remember why I'm doing this

Going to Colorado helped remind me why I'm doing this because sometimes I forget.

A few months back I had forgotten why I do this (write songs, sing songs and post them haphazardly on the internet, go play shows) and I sat down to write out the names of all the people who've given me their love, support and encouragement to keep writing, to keep getting in front of people to sing songs. If you're reading this, your name is probably on that list.

Last Thursday I went to Colorado to play my first show at Swallow Hill Music. I've played there before with my band, Star Belle Ukulele Band for Uke Fest,  and I've opened shows for Richard Shindell and Tom Paxton, but I've never had my own show there. The Tom Paxton show went really well and I booked Thursday's show that very night. That's cool.

I was so worried about ticket sales and attendance. Last Monday I was sure I was going to get busted because only 5 people would come and that was going to be the end of that. But Thursday's show had over 30 people there and they were all friends and family and they are the reason I'm doing this. Friends from long ago, friends from Song School, from the cafe where I work, from church, cousins on my mom's side, a friend from SongFood and they brought their friends. It was a great night. I was so humbled that they all came out.

On Friday night my friend, Ken, organized a house concert for me at his house. First of all, Ken and I only get to see each other once a year at Song School. It was so cool to hang out with him and talk songs and life and the future while on a hike on Friday in Boulder. It's so flippin' beautiful there. He opened the show and sounded so great. I'm only sorry I didn't get to stick around for more hang out time. He and his friend put lots of work into hosting me and giving me a space to play songs. That's a reason why I'm doing this.

On Saturday night, at a level of fatigue I have rarely experienced, I drove out to play a songwriter in the round show at The Down Under Lounge (cool place) in Omaha. I got to sit up on stage with a friend of mine, Ben, who I've known for 5 years and two other songwriters I met that night. It was so cool to sit next to Ben and hear his songs and know his story and hear how much of himself he's poured into his work and hear it getting better and better. I love that we got to share the stage together. Afterward I had strangers coming up to me to tell me they liked my songs and asking about the records they could buy that had those tracks on them. That's pretty amazing. They got one listen to one song and it was enough to make them come up to me and tell me about it? That's special. That's heavy. That's why I'm doing this. To help, to help people hear their own stories, to ease a burden, to make people smile. All that stuff.

Those are the reasons why I wrote a big list of BIG things while sitting on the patio of that bar in Omaha on Saturday night. Because that love and kindness is enough to inspire me to take bigger risks and try harder even if it's scary. 

To all those people whose names are on my list I say the love and support you've sent me is the kind of fuel I needed to remember why I'm doing this. I'm bringing you with me along the way. I heard your words of encouragement and complement and I want to give you what I have to give. We're in this together. I'll try not to forget again. You are a gift. Thank you. 

p.s. Go and do likewise. Someone is looking to you for that inspiration and creativity that they need to be moved. We've all got a job to do. Don't take it lightly. Your neighbor needs you to be just exactly who you were created to be. 

Practicing the business of music

This summer when I went to Lyons for Song School I had an impromptu mentoring session with one of my songwriting heroes. We've talked songwriting before. We've talked songs. We've never talked business stuff and I found myself asking him about business stuff. 

We agreed that playing songs is cool, letting songs live in the moment and then disappear is cool, but if the artist in the moment wants to get to the next hippie dippy moment, then she has to put on a hat named, "Business" and book the gig. She has to be an advocate for the songwriter so her work can be heard. 

So true. So hard. So I'm practicing. 

Practicing means sending emails, sometimes more than once to a media outlet asking that they cover the show or publish a press release. It means booking studio time, it means band practice, it means actively seeking out dates in bigger venues, asking for more money than last time or asking for help in getting the word out on an upcoming show. It means keeping the website up to date (in progress) and getting new pictures of yourself taken (this is my least favorite thing in the whole world, but it's part of the job).

Did you know you have to have been reviewed in the last two years in order to apply for an official showcase at Folk Alliance? I have only been reviewed once by an online publication about 5 years ago so I can't apply. This job is kinda learn as you and, for now, I can't for the life of me figure out how to get reviewed and I'm too chicken to ask. 

So I'm practicing. Some days are better than others. Some days I feel braver than others. Terri and Ellis gave great advice a few years ago that a goal with many steps is a project and a project can only be completed in stages. That's what I'm doing. I'm breaking down the project into tiny pieces and hoping I make progress. 

Yesterday I played a show at the Gresham Community Center. It was great. I had so much fun, I think the audience did too and I walked away thinking that I'm good at this job. Even if nobody notices beyond my circle right now, I do this well. That took practice.

Now I'm practicing this other thing that doesn't come as naturally, but it's doable. We've all got those parts of us that are in the process of being learned or developed. Be patient, stay positive, just do a little at a time. Hell, set the timer if you have to. I'm right there with you.