Sing Silently

Ruthie and I spent the weekend up in the mountains with a group of friends. My friend Josh Feit played a new song that he had written. Knowing the subject of the piece, I had tears in my eyes at the end.

The song was called "Sing Silently." The lyrics went like this:

Sing silently
Sing silently
'Till the bluebird mama can make it home
'Till the bluebird mama can make it home

Tread tenderly
Tread tenderly
'Till the blackbird papa can make it home
'Till the blackbird papa can make it home

Sing la la la
To the shadows in the room
Keep singing la la la
To the shadows in the room

He wrote it about a girl at a local apartment complex, who witnessed violence in her home and can't sleep well anymore. I think that, as we dive into the pain of the lives around us, art like this becomes more and more essential, both in ministering to that pain and in keeping our sanity.

Songs like this do a beautiful job of telling stories, of releasing pain, and searching for hope. I believe that Josh's example is one that more of us should follow. He makes art that relates to the overwhelming mysteries he faces, and the resulting song is such a powerful call to compassion, to hope, to love.

There's much more that I could say on this, but I'd encourage my readers to hop over to Josh's site and check out the song for themselves. A recording of the song is available at The Redline Project.

Rock and Roll

I love music. I practice it, seek it, listen to it, and drink it in. Tonight, my friend Meredith Huff came through town with her band The Winter Sounds again.

Adam Fites, a friend of mine who lives down in Locust Grove, drove all the way up to Doraville to pick me up from my day job, since my car is still in the shop.

It was one of those days at work. I wondered why I ever thought I could do this job well, why I'm still employed here, and how my bosses will respond to the mistakes I make. I sank into the passenger seat of Adam's car feeling tense and exhausted.

Going to hear Meredith play, standing by the stage as the music launched itself across the room, I felt a bit revived. Many of the songs were about pain. I think one thing I love about art is its redemptive power. Artists can take their own pain and weave it into something beautiful that will lift others up.

So this blog entry is a little prayer of thanks. I am thankful that my friends Adam, Meredith, and Aubrey were there to share in the joy of art with me. I am thankful that God wired creativity into us, and that he shows his love to me through others' artistry.

Tomorrow could be the end of my job. I know that. I'm worried about it. But tonight's experience reminded me that I am profoundly thankful for the unpredictable, messy nature of life. It's out of this mess that beauty emerges unexpectedly, creatively, redemptively, and I can't help being thankful to the author of the whole thing.