MUSIC!!!

OK. I’m finally going to do it. I have to. I’m pushed to. You can call it "All I ever didn't want to know about music and what Christine Monson thinks about it." Been thinking about this many nights, though—and since I might as well get up and do it if I’m not going to be able to sleep so I can actually get it off my mind and get some sleep another night, here we go—and hopefully I won’t be too tired tomorrow. I’ve got to write about music. In doing so, I know that few, if anyone, will understand why this is such a challenging, all-encompassing subject for me. It is an intersection of music’s intrinsic power, and its purity as a medium through which spiritual truths can be expressed and shared, in a world where some, like professional musicians, can understand why it can drive someone to want to do it all of the time, in a context where, in the LDS Church, it is a significant component of our worship, but usually in a lay setting that is very much in opposition, not in a bad way, to the fact that the service that Christ gave seems so opposite music, as music can be seen as a decoration only, and not the life-saving service that we give so wonderfully in our Church (it’s the case in many others as well—but as I am LDS, and that absolutely informs how I see the world and truth—and feel it also--I openly and wholeheartedly come from that perspective—and all of that comes especially in the setting of my strengths, talents, experiences, weaknesses, and testimony that make it wonderful but oh, so challenging because of the particular interplay of all of them. So we’ll give this a go—and hope the 850 words a minute I can think in my mind can translate into what I need it to be as I encounter a keyboard that can only type 100 words a minute and have what I have already written as the medium to continue my thoughts onward. I do this because I feel so much in the middle of two truths or forces that work in opposition to another in a wonderful way—paradoxes, if you will. First of all, I am always in the middle of what I talked about above, in knowing that music isn’t necessarily life-changing—Christ didn’t go around healing or serving people with music—but at the same time, I know absolutely and have experienced its power to absolutely touch and life—and even to heal. I know music has a power second to none to be a medium of the Spirit as pure as any other, in addition to loving service, spoken words, and physical touch. Of course, if abused, its power can be manipulated and turned for evil—or confusion. And I know very fully how incredible music, classical or not, can create emotions, that are as powerful as the spirit—knowing that, I think it’s very important that that music be underlain by good, noble, and virtuous intentions or stories (I think of a time when I got to see Phantom of the Opera in St. Louis on my mission, and some of the other sisters and I were talking, and they said there were moments in an otherwise unsavory story that felt so “spiritual”--just be careful of what you tie music and its power to—I’d hate to abuse that power, because I think it is “sacred”). It has a power that is incredible. I am so grateful for the power of music that I have felt throughout my life, that which we think of as classical and that which we think of in other ways. I am so grateful for music. Couple that power, though, with spiritual truths, especially those borne of experience and emotion going through life’s challenges and joys, and it is a power like no other. Through the talents I have, over the last 14 years, I have created many arrangements and some compositions in a very personal spiritual process that are so closely tied to sharing my testimony and what I have experienced and learn, as they have come to me in ways that are significant to the events of my life. Over the last year, for some reason, as I have experienced what seems to be the culmination of some trials and events in my life, I have composed several pieces that are very highly personal, because they are so tied to how I have gotten through it all, where my strength has and does comes from. The last couple of years, I have been involved with putting together group experiences in music, two of them with mine, one with someone else’s, giving me a chance to experience developing as a leader through music (and to have some pretty special spiritual experiences as I thought about the truths that I was trying to share through music, even composing several songs in the process)—a good process of seeing myself progressively in different ways and being OK with being a leader in music—or being OK that others can see me as a leader, notwithstanding my weaknesses, even if it’s just for a moment till we move on from that temporary project. My patriarchal blessing talks about being blessed with many talents by the Lord, and because of that, He expects in return, great accomplishments from me as I go forward in service to Him. It has been a wonderful experience to be a part of some great things our ward has done. But my soul wants to do more, and more regularly—I’ll talk about that below. Unfortunately of fortunately, as I will talk about later, I have been blessed with some pretty significant musical talents (I’ll talk about them a little later). It’s not just playing the piano—if that was the case, this wouldn’t be such a big deal (I mean, music is in my mind constantly, not just because I play it, but because I hear it, I understand it, I feel it—add to that the spiritual component of wanting so much to share my testimony and knowledge through music, to build His kingdom, not just in our ward—although, as it has been, if that’s the only avenue open now, that’s where it has to be, regardless of the awkwardness of that, because in doing that, I know it’s not about me, but the fact is, music is such a big part of our worship—but putting all of these factors together, and you have someone who always feels so much the need to have what I do that is so personal and significant to me as a regular, predictable, fulfilling, spiritually uplifting and serving outlet who feels conflicted because that service could be, as it has been, done at the ward level, especially without other opportunities, but wants to be, because it can be and because so many others do it, done at a much wider—and it could be said—great level—again, what is great?). Because of that, the nature of my service leans towards music. Some might say, well, that’s wonderful. Well, it can also be a source of guilt, as when I’m doing something in music, something that’s so much a part of me, I feel a sense of guilt in knowing that it’s taking me away from other forms of service that could be life-changing and more personal. I don’t want to feel that guilt. I want it to be OK that that is the course, for whatever reason by virtue of my talents I was given, that I was supposed to take. In that sense, I wish I could know that others would see that service through music just as valuable, just as life-changing, because it’s something I feel led and even compelled to do, so I don’t have to feel guilty about it. At the same time, I wish others could see how much I love to serve in other ways, how I try to do it as much as I can, and utilize the even celebrate the fact that I can and do and am more than able to serve in other ways. I wish it didn’t have to feel like because I’m a musician, that means I am not seen as able—and not seen as choosing—to give service in other ways. I can and do do it, as much as I can. It is so nice when I can have that fact acknowledged. Of course, this isn’t to talk about the fact that, like all of us, I have weaknesses that can sometimes get in the way of serving. I do—but to be honest, the biggest “weakness” of all,, if you will, is the fact I am a musician, with talents that can and are used to build His kingdom, and doing so is always a choice, whether it’s directed from someone else or not, to not be able to serve in other ways. Kind of like the opportunity cost principle of economics. Enough on that particular paradox for now. So talking about another paradox I am in the middle of requires talking a bit about my life and how music and my talents, along with my weaknesses and personality, have played such incredibly significant roles in shaping both my life and how I see things. I started piano when I started kindergarten, I believe. My mom is a pianist—she accompanied lots of choirs, the ones my mom and dad met in—when I was in her womb—and my dad is a trombonist, having played in the 23rd Army National Guard Band for years and years. Music was a significant part of our lives. My mom says something about how I would play what the kids she was teaching were playing, and so she wanted me to start lessons (I think all of my 2 brothers and 3 sisters have these abilities, to some extent—I as the oldest, may have gotten a jump start on developing them, and continued it probably a little more formally than any of them did—hopefully I didn’t monopolize time and resources to their exclusion! I love my family!). So I started with a teacher when I was almost 6. I don’t know much of how I was as a student, other than it was very easy for me—maybe because I understood music and how it is built so intrinsically, I couldn’t understand why my teachers didn’t get that, because they were just piano teachers, not theory teachers. What I do remember, though, is maybe being in 1st grade, and having my uncle, a professional saxophonist and flutist, be amazed at what I was doing as I played—I don’t know exactly what I was doing, but it must have been somewhere along the lines of composing, improvising, transposing—something like that. Because so many of my mentors and teachers have been pianists or instrumentalists, coming from the background of how they understood music, I have really appreciated it when others who “get” the talents of improvising, composing, transposing—just understanding music in a different way—have something to me—I’ve longed for someone like that as a mentor, because what I do is unusual. I remember being a senior in high school and going to my great-aunt’s nursing home for our annual Christmas family sing-along—and playing for it, improvising and transposing at will—and having a lady there who must have been visiting family and just overhearing what I was doing come in and say, “I don’t know if you realize that, but what you are doing is something that only one in a million people can do.” I appreciate that kind of recognition—only because, notwithstanding the many teachers and mentors I have had through my life, few have really been able to see, or at least channel, those talents above what they were teaching me in piano, or other things. I always felt a little empty because of that, I think, like these talents are such a significant part of what I do and am, but because I had piano teachers who were only focused on that, just really only understood that part of music, I never had the mentoring in channeling these talents in a university setting (something I really long for now, because once you’re out of college, you’re on your own!). Of course in all of this is the fact that, perhaps if I was male or a very uninhibited female and seemingly outgoing and confident, that I would have that mentoring—that recognition of those talents. I experienced this from an early age, when a boy with similar talents, a year younger than I, who went to elementary with me, was very celebrated for these talents, and used them in flashy ways that was very celebrated. For me, I was a pianist, even as much as I tried to break out of “just” that. I remember in 1st & 2nd grade playing in our school talent show, and always feeling upstaged by him, because he was a cute boy, he was male. Not feeling that same acknowledgment, not being necessarily a “cute,” powerful. outgoing female, and not being male, I danced in 3rd grade for my talent show (even though I didn’t take dance—I really wonder what it was like! But honestly, I love dancing!)—and sang in 4th grade, because I loved singing (more later), it was a different part of me that went against the “shy” personality that everyone thought I was. Of course, I wasn’t as cute or possibly naturally gifted as a singer as other girls were—I don’t know—don’t you wish you could go back and see how things really were, why you started to see yourself the way you do, and see how closely your perception matched reality?). I continued piano, in the midst of developing the other natural talents I had—academics and athletics (how and why they all ended up being combined as pretty significant talents in me, along with my weaknesses, is an interesting question). I started playing violin also. I had taken from a local teacher until 4th grade, not really doing a whole lot extraordinary through music, then 4th through 6th, I took from a music teacher who moved into our ward, who fostered a greater knowledge of music, although I didn’t ever get to playing “wow” pieces. Then she moved and I started with the piano “professor” at Weber State. She suddenly introduced me to “wow” pieces, and suddenly I was wowing a little more. Of course, I am not, and will never be, a note-perfect pianist—some of my strengths are to blame for that—and I’m OK with that. But to really be one of “those” pianists in the classical world, you have to be. But I did well enough to take from a college teacher at Utah State from 9th -12th, with some stops & starts in the middle of a busy school and sports life, and some family challenges (after the Weber one left—and no, not Gary Amano—not the note-perfect pianist that he would demand). None of these teachers ever fostered anything in the composition/improvisation route, although I tried to show those abilities—they just didn’t get it. Fast forward to graduation, and getting a 4-year academic scholarship to BYU (ended up with one to Utah State also, where I could have continued piano as I had done it, but wanted to go to BYU). I had always thought I’d study piano in college—and when I auditioned for BYU’s piano program and was denied, I was pretty devastated, because I had no idea how much music would be a part of my college life from that point on, and felt that my options were possibly gone. I just wanted them to know of my other abilities, how they could work in conjunction with my piano—but most piano teachers, even university ones, don’t understand that—they’re not taught or paid to. So I ended up at BYU for my freshman year, having only an organ class (in retrospect, there could have been so many other avenues available to me there, but for me, all I knew was you go and you study piano because you’re a pianist—I just needed a mentor to help me understand how to channel my talents—I’m still looking for that!). In March of that year, I decided that I would be so much happier doing music, and seeing no way to do that at BYU (and wanting to move back home anyway—cheaper, and my family had been through some major trials and we needed some new beginnings together, I think), I decided to go to Weber. At the time, Weber’s piano program was very much in its infancy, and even with my weaknesses in piano, I very much shined there, getting a piano scholarship, accompanying Weber State Singers. Still, I didn’t have any recognition of needing to channel some of my other talents (except by Evelyn Harris, WSS’ director, who was a wonderful friend and support—but there was only so much she could do because that wasn’t her area). Honestly, at the time, Weber didn’t have a lot of other opportunities for channeling—it was grown so much in opportunity and stature since I was there. Along the way, I began the college music theory courses—there’s 2 years of them required—registering for the 2nd year, I think, taking a test to determine where I was (& passing incredibly well for someone who only had ½ year of theory in high school and the smatterings I got from piano). Then I went to talk to the theory teacher, who found out I hadn’t had the 1st year, and he strongly suggested—no, it felt like he was telling me—that I needed the first year. That was devastating, because all I wanted to say was, you don’t get it—you don’t get how easy this is for me, even if I haven’t had the “academic” introduction, how much it’s a 2nd language that I never had to learn (that I’ve only had to learn the terminology for, as I have studied theory more). I couldn’t help thinking, back to my elementary days, that if I was a male, or a powerfully outgoing female that could say, “I do get it, and you can’t tell me otherwise,” that he would have just said, OK. But I didn’t feel I could challenge him on it, so I took the 1st year (yes, it was way easy, a waste if you want to call it that). I still feel like that—so much like that. I want to be taken seriously as a musician, as a composer. I long for someone like a Mack Wilberg to look at my stuff and say, “Wow, we need to use what you have here, because it is valuable). But I’ve seen it enough in my life to know that there are certain types of people that “fit” that bill as composer—and if you don’t fit it, if you haven’t taken the traditional course (even someone like Janice Kapp Perry has her story—and she has strong males who have fostered her opportunities), you just aren’t taken seriously. I have so much music to share. People will say, oh, you’ll get your opportunity—you’re raising children now (they are getting bigger—and they are my greatest treasures, no matter what music is! And my husband is my miracle, no ifs, ands, or buts, and my greatest support). But I still need to share what I have now. It is a need that aches (some musicians will understand that). It is a need that’s not just about music, but about serving and sharing what means so much to me and the journey I have taken to get there—my testimony, my trials, and how my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are my all, and have taught me and led me through so much. What, you ask? A parents’ divorce at 18, a brother’s suicide that same year (ot to blog about those still—writing about those is the next step), the challenges coming from an intersection of upbringing, strengths, and weaknesses, going through years of singleness, marrying my miracle at 32, becoming instant mom to 3 children, my two stepsons full-time, each with some very significant challenges that have created wrenching situations and experiences that I could only begin to describe, having my youngest brother also commit suicide, having a little 20-week stillborn (that’s what she was, and her name is Rachel—I’ve got to blog about her), going through some significant financial challenges, and having my two beautiful daughters (one with PKU) who are, with my husband, the light of my life. All of these things have provided a backdrop for the music I have arranged and composed. When I arrange a hymn, I try to so intentionally create music that so closely reflects the message, feeling, and story of the text. When I compose a song, I want it to be something that expresses very poignantly the feelings of my soul and what I have learned through my experiences about how to get through them, relying on faith in our God and Savior, hope in their plan, and obedience to their commandments. Instead of taking me away from my family, music has been the means of tying me to the strength that I need to raise my family and endure life’s trials. That is the nature of service. My service just happens to be, in many cases, through music. It is something I need to do. Read my first entry in this blog, and you’ll see how I hated the label “shy,” but at the same time, loved that music could be a form of expression that kind of said, I’m not just “shy,” people. But at the same time, I hated being known for just being a pianist, something that happened more and more as I grew older, and not for who I really was, not for the valuable person I was inside, or what I had to share of me through music. So go figure why I am so focused on music and expressing myself now through it, why I have so many conflicts about it, because I have so many conflicts with my personality and with the setting in which I find myself confined to sharing my music in—because it really is so much a part of who I am still, and maybe in sharing how I overcome challenges and trials, and even limitations and weaknesses—in showing that we are not just one-faceted, even if we do have major talents that come to define us in a sense, but we are a whole. I think we need to see each other as we really are, strengths, weaknesses, experiences combined—and celebrate each other as individuals, and encourage and lead and strengthen each other as individuals. Sometimes I’ve felt that missing, and as much as I try to do that for others, because I have found that missing, I have tried and need to share so much through music still. This also comes to play when I talk about being a singer. Singing is pure heart-to-heart communication—at its best, it is, that is (and best doesn’t mean well-trained, it just means done with the heart). Because sometimes I’ve felt that my “heart” wasn’t good enough--because others didn’t see my heart as it was, or that’s how I came to myself through the lens of others, and have had a hard time shedding that view of myself—I’ve had a hard time with singing. But I am still a singer. But I am still a pianist—and that’s where the problem comes in. I am so at one with the piano—it is an extension of myself—it’s an extension of my musical mind that I know so completely how to shape and mold to express musically what I want (sometimes to really get to the absolute heart of what I want, it takes some experimenting with voicing and chords, but usually it just comes). I have a good voice—not an exceptional one, but a good voice. I don’t always feel I have a solo voice, especially when it comes to tone, vowel, and sameness of the voice in all ranges. I have a great, exceptional voice in isolated parts—but to put it together, I don’t know if it would ever be considered good enough. Now, if I was standing up, maybe I could. But the bigger problem is probably the fact that I have to sit down to sit as I play. Have you ever tried to really do solo singing sitting down, and then also try to keep your voice from wanting to follow your fingers? Add to that the fact that communicating through the piano and communicating through the voice are two entirely different modes of communication, and I just don’t know if communicating through those two modes can exist together effectively in me. It always feels like I have something (like the piano, and my hands) in the way of communicating. But see, that’s just me. Now I know very well that as a singer/pianist I will never be as powerful at communicating doing both together as I would be as an accompanist playing for a wonderful singer (much better than I am, even in the first place) to sing what I have composed and arranged. But the fact is, that these are my songs—and it feels so weird to have someone else do my music and not be able to talk about, naturally and effectively not awkwardly, why I have chosen to create the song the way I have, as well as the story behind the music and the Gospel truths that so intimately are tied to how I have performed and created the song. Now, if I had a singer that could work with that awkwardness, and somehow naturally be able to sing, but at the same time, work with me to present the message I want to convey also, both through song and through word. But I don’t know if that is possible. It is possible in a sense, yes. But to really do what I envision doing, I’m not sure if that would ever be possible. Not that I can’t do it, but I think it has to be done in conjunction with, or in addition to, what I have done by myself as a piano and singer together. Now, of course, much of what I do could be piano only. But the fact is, that I rely on the words so much, and I rely on the audience being aware of the words so much to fully feel I am communicating through the music. To do piano only loses the immediacy of what I want to communicate, so I always feel like something is missing. But to do piano/vocal together seems awkward, unless someone who really knows assures me it’s not—again, the mentor problem, finding someone who performs themselves, who understands music’s spiritual power, as well as its place in worship and service. Now for the last set of paradoxes. One is serving through music at the local level—we’ll call it the ward level—most who read this will know what that means—versus serving on a more churchwide, or even through the wonders of the Internet, the worldwide level. Actually, essentially, this is related to the service through music vs. serving in other, more life-changing, and therefore, more valuable ways. When I talk to people or express through writing my desire, my need, if you will (hopefully I explained that need above), to do what I want to more fully and regularly through music, which inevitably comes with some frustration, because not having that need fulfilled is frustrating, I invariably get, just pray, or just be patient—it will come. But the fact is, I have that need now, that desire, that impetus now. In our ward that I’ve lived in for 8+ years, I was choir accompanist for 6 of those because no one else wanted to take over (I intimidate too many people, though I try so hard not to—again, it’s a balancing act between two opposing forces). I should say, I was kind of a leader from the piano, working with the actual leader, because of course we work with those who are called—a good thing—but who don’t necessarily have a lot of directing or even musical experience. Sometimes I so wanted the experience of being able to lead through music, though—soooo much. After I was finally released (because they had someone new move in), they were also without a director. It seemed they had to just be prodded to consider me. Why couldn’t I be considered a leader in that way? In the same vein, having lived here so long and having so many opportunities to share what I do, I have never been asked to do any kind of special programs (well, early on, I did an empty nester’s program on classical music) that were spiritual in nature, even though I have tried to freely share arrangements and compositions, not in an attempt to make anyone look at me, but to just do what I need to do in the creative, spiritual sense, and hopefully in the process, others would know that I had a need to do it more—quite honestly, I could do anything anytime on the spur of the moment—people don’t get that, or at least don’t understand that there’s a desire in me to share so often and completely, and I don’t mind being asked spontaneously. However, obviously I haven’t been able to get others to ask me to do things, which makes me wonder why. And of course, I have to answer, that it’s because of my weaknesses—my personality, even my wanting to be humble, enough that I won’t ask if I can have opportunities, because I think the reason they don’t ask in the first place, when they ask others—they ask others all of the time, they celebrate others all of the time—is because of my weaknesses—again another need for a mentor as I described above to help me see things as they really are. So I was choir director, which was a great experience, I thought—but again, the intimidation factor came into play, as well as the fact that, in an effort to perform more what I do—needing to perform them, even to experiment them, to share them—I have created a lot of things I have done for choir. And having a ready choir, it was hard to resist that opportunity—and I found myself having opportunities to do it more and more. I just don’t think the accompanist understood that—and it came at a time when we did one of the great experiences of my life, performing selections from Savior of the World along with a very condensed script that I had some very spiritual experiences working on as I contemplated the life of Christ. So I finally was presented with the—the accompanist says it’s either you or her—and of course, what am I going to say to that? Of course, take me, cause I’m so good—I realized I needed to move on. So I don’t have opportunities because I’m not asked in the ward (nor the stake) and I can’t use choir as a medium. But it’s so hard, because music is such a large part of our regular worship, and such a part of our life as a church, that I find myself feeling conflicted because here I am trying to serve in other ways through music, but knowing that such a large part of me remains unfulfilled, because it is such a large part of what I am and want to do—not that I can’t do other things, but having this major need unfulfilled is quite honestly, painful. It can’t just be said that it will come, or serve in other ways—because I do serve in other ways, but again, having this unfulfilled way to share spiritually and creatively is just painful—sad, but not really, because the Lord gave me these talents, as well as these desires to serve and share. I can’t help that others could help me if they understood all that goes into this great need—but in the end, I don’t know if they could—or if they should—but the honest truth is, though, that those who are much more flamboyantly outgoing, powerful, lovable, or other (of course I didn’t mention above that I do not feel beautiful at all, especially when I sing, adding to the awkwardness I feel when I do sing—I’ve overcome that to some extent, but I still have to wonder if the appearance part detracts even more from my singing). Anyway, those kind of people really do have that help already, and that is probably why they have been able to do so much—it is just true, because I have seen it (or they have family members who are techie, or a rich uncle that gives them money to record a CD). I always wonder what would happen if I had more “credibility,” if I had recorded a CD already, or had had things published already. Would that change anything? It seems those who are asked are those who have the personalities and dominance to just command opportunities, which usually means they have some source of “credibility” that makes people want to listen to them. But I have not had a budget to do a CD, making me wonder why the Lord gave me these desires to serve, these talents, but has made it so all of the service I give has to be at the local level, where what I do is not asked for—nor even understood when I finally just have to take the opportunity—because the Spirit drives me to do it. I just don’t know why He drives me to do it, though, knowing that afterwards I will be left with such an unfulfilled yearning, because I don’t have regular opportunities to do this—and shouldn’t because doing that shouldn’t be part of the ward, right?. I think I hit above the paradox of serving through music as a pianist, vs. as a pianist/singer, vs. serving through music as an accompanist/arranger/composer, So this last part touches on two things. Serving through music by myself or in conjunction with others. vs. as a director/accompanist, vs. as a director/orchestrator. I have tried to involve more and more people in an effort to compensate for my own weaknesses, and to provide more opportunities to participate. The truth is I love directing choirs. I don’t even mind necessarily being at the piano doing that, as I do when I’m just accompanying one person. I don’t mind doing others music if I’m able to without self-conscious thought include mine as naturally as I can. And not knowing if the reasons I am not asked about fulfilling or providing those opportunities is because my music isn’t good enough, or if it’s me that’s not good enough—but in the end, I’m not sure there’s much of a difference. I have to mention that that whole question comes up with how I feel the Lord feels about what I do—after all, He’s the one who is over everything we do, and He could inspire others in my path to give the assistance and support I need to do what He wants, if it was His will—and I sometimes have such a hard time knowing why He would give me these great talents, and great desires, in conjunction with weaknesses that make it impossible to do what He wants me to do, either because He wants to “punish” me for my weaknesses, or because He wants to leave me unfulfilled and trusting only that someday that will be fulfilled—though I know that’s not true—He loves me, He cares, and wants to help, and will fulfill His promises—but it has been a very big fight against those feelings, especially since I have nothing to counter them with, other than being grateful for the isolated opportunities I have had, which I really am grateful for—but I need so much more—my soul needs so much. And sorry, I would never be happy just singing in a choir, doing others’ music, not having regular opportunities to play, direct, and sing my own as part of being in that choir—with that provision, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but I would never be to that stature, right?). So I’d love to direct a choir in doing my music, as well as others, on a regular basis, but know that will never be, because I’m not that kind of person, and my music is not that kind of music, that would inspire others to want to join and be a part of what we do, even if we are trying to serve through music. So I’d love to share more, but without “credibility” to counter what my weaknesses are I don’t have those opportunities (and yes, I could always go play at a rest home—and do—but this is in addition, because it’s just not quite the outlet my soul needs, regardless of the service that it is). I need an outlet, not just a way to serve. But at the same time, I need a way to serve, not just an outlet. And so I turn to the Internet, to Youtube, where I can at least post my songs for the entire world to see, talking first about the spiritual context and messages—in a way that I can direct. Of course, people need to share it for it to come up in searches. I guess I have to hope that happens. Because that is my last ready opportunity for sharing, for serving, for creating, for bearing testimony through music, as fully as my soul longs to, and hopefully the Spirit is directing, at least in the background. Here goes something! And here it is 10:30 AM—7 ½ hours after starting this, with a 3-hour break to go sleep with my 4-year-old who woke up & was trying to sleep at my feet (and finding myself getting tired myself). Here I go to be a Mother and Husband. And then to be someone who hopefully can be a servant through being a Musician. I love all of these, in their proper part in my life. They all have a place. They all have to have a place—even music. I hope there’s a place for it, regular and fulfilling—and uplifting and strengthening to others. I want to serve. I want to share. I want to be who He wants me to be. Sorry--I'm not editing all of that. I got to get on with the day. But it's expressed, written, and done. Thanks!