Ephemera: It’s Not as Odd As You Think

About two years ago, I spent seven months living with my Mom in Jackson, Miss., acting as head house cleaner and cheerleader while she battled breast cancer. She has now been declared cancer free, and life for both of us has resumed a somewhat normal pace.

As we were nearing the end of Mom’s treatment and the tension slowly began to give way to relief and celebration, I decided, in typical artist fashion, to go into a local studio and record a half-dozen acoustic arrangements of new songs. I knew some of these songs would end up fully produced on my next studio project, and I knew some were simply near and dear to my heart.

As I considered how to share this music with friends, I decided to release a download-only EP. EP (short for “extended play”) is essentially a record that has fewer than ten tracks. Most Ep’s are 4-6 tracks in length.

Pronounced “ee-fem—ur-ah”, this intimidating-looking word simply means “content that won’t be around for long.” Since these versions of my songs (and favorite cover songs) are always the first, rawest, most intimate versions, they are meant for only my truest friends and fans—the ones that like to hear the imperfections of new music being worked out with just a piano or guitar and vocal mic.

I’ve just released the second version of Ephemera. All tracks on this round were recorded at my friend James Waddell’s studio called Lyricanvas. James is a wonderful engineer who isn’t scared of mixing dry, hot piano/vocals.

In addition to having a master engineer, the Maestro of Ax-grinding Chris Rodriguez, laid down some killin guitar tracks for me to sing to. Talk about inspiration…

Some of the tunes on this latest Ephemera have already been produced more fully for our upcoming full-length release, but I hope that you’ll enjoy these acoustic versions in the meantime. Truth is…if I could make simple, stripped-down records for a living, I probably would.  Then again, if I could make fully-produced R&B records for a living, I probably would. It’s all music. It’s all such a blast!

If after listening to this project there are certain songs that you’d like to hear on a full-length record, let us know. We’d love your input.

Visit this link to get your copy!

SAY AMEN: The Rest of The Story

I don’t remember many things well, but I remember that day very clearly. It was near the end of January in 2007. It didn’t feel like winter outside…typical Tennessee weather.

Don Donahue (Rocketown Prez) and I spent the morning solving the problems of the world as we drove to Memphis to meet, for the first time, a young lady whose story had deeply impacted us both.

Several weeks earlier, Don had learned of Ronell Ragbir from a friend of his. Ronell was a twenty-year-old singer/songwriter from Trinidad with an amazing passion and depth, a wonderful way with words, and the fight of her life at hand. Ronell had been courageously waging war against cancer for five years and was likely nearing the end of her battle.

When Don learned that one of Ronell’s biggest dreams was to record her own project and perform a concert for her friends, he wanted to figure out a way to help. After sharing her story with me over the phone, I, too, was eager to do something to aid in this young lady’s dreams becoming reality. Neither Don nor I knew exactly how we’d help, so we were headed to visit Ronell in Memphis to figure it out.

We already knew that Ronell had many human Angels around her. Her Mother, Cammie, moved with her from Trinidad and took care of her round the clock. Singer/songwriter Bruce Carroll and his team at Hope church in Memphis were already facilitating the recording of her cd at their state-of-the-art studio. And Tom Bowen was the Angel who ultimately helped Ronell realize her dreams.

Having lost a young son to cancer several years prior, Tom and his wife Jennifer had begun dedicating much of their time to supporting and caring for other families with children fighting cancer. They’d known Ronell at St. Jude’s Hospital during the time that their son Ben was still alive, so needless to say, Tom did all but move Heaven and Earth to help Ronell share her heart with the world.

Don and I wanted to be Angels, too, I think. We never used that term, but we were so eager to do our part. On the other hand, I was a little apprehensive at exactly how I could help this special girl who had experienced more pain in the last five years than I’d known in my entire life.

What would I say? How could I be encouraging? Would my sense of humor be enough to minimize the awkwardness I felt—or to lighten the mood enough so that I wouldn’t break down in tears when I was around her?

And would she even like me? We were supposed to write and record a song together, but I knew she hadn’t heard much, if any, of my music, so I hoped she’d even want to work together.

I felt guilty for thinking about myself and my fears…anything I thought or felt paled miserably in comparison to the enormity of Ronell’s situation.

We all arrived at the restaurant at around the same time. Cammie and Tom got Ronell’s wheelchair out and placed her in it. Just inside, everyone officially met. Ronell immediately pointed out to me that the two of us together would make a great “whole person.” I could walk and she could see. I could push her chair around, and she could tell me where to go. It was her sharp wit that put us all at ease.

After lunch we headed for the Grove Studio, where Ronell and I would potentially write and record a song. I’d brought along a chorus that I’d written at least five years earlier. I’d always loved it, but had never been able to write verses by myself or with a co-writer. I didn’t know whether or not Ronell would even like the chorus well enough to work on the verses, but I had a hunch that if anyone could write lyrics to the verses, it would be Ronell.

And I was right. In thirty minutes, we’d completed “Say Amen.” A couple hours later, we’d recorded it. I was amazed at how this young woman, hooked up to all sorts of bags of medicine, sitting in her wheelchair, had the patience and strength to deliver such sweet, tender vocals.

During the next several months, we performed “Say Amen” together at several events and at Ronell’s wonderful concert—where 1500 people came to hear her.

Finally, I sang “Say Amen”at Ronell’s Memorial Service, one of the most challenging things I’ve ever had to do. Perhaps not as challenging as holding her hand as she lay in the hospital bed, talking to her, and hoping that she heard what I was saying. Perhaps it wasn’t as haunting as remembering the phone call I received several days before that, when she’d said, “I promise, Ginny; I’ll hold on until you get here.”

Needless to say, I was deeply moved and impacted by Ronell’s life. She lived each day to the fullest, but always with the hope of tomorrow in her heart. She had unshakable faith and complete confidence in God, His plans, and Heaven. But she was just as hopeful that healing would come, and that she’d perform music and write poetry for many years to come. I don’t yet know if I understand how she continued to hope in all directions, but she did. And I am changed because of her life.

I couldn’t sing “Say Amen” for awhile, nor could I write about Ronell. It was very difficult to know what to say or how to make sense of it all in my head. I now know that it simply wasn’t time to share what I’d learned from Ronell, because I had much more to learn about saying amen.

Almost a year to the date of learning Ronell’s story, I received another phone call—and heard another story—this one much closer to home. My Mom had undergone some tests, and they’d found cancer.

As I prepared to move home to be with my Mom through her chemo, surgery, and radiation treatments, I lived with that unsettled feeling of dread that lingers in the pit of the stomach. I could not hide from this, nor could I make it go away. I could not do my part by writing songs with her, calling to talk, or posting the news on my website and asking everyone to pray.

I had to simply go and be there…right in the middle of it. It was the only thing to do. The next nine months would prove to be some of the most challenging of my Mother’s life. The first rounds of chemo had especially cruel side effects. She lost her long hair and then her eyebrows. She was forced to exchange her very full and active life for resting on the couch or in bed. And I couldn’t do a thing to make it better. I could not give her answers for why this was happening, and I could not make the pain go away.

So I did what I could…I listened, made lots of watered-down lemonade drinks, handled the laundry, and cleaned the kitchen. It was a helpless time for both of us. I wanted to take on the cancer for her, so she wouldn’t have to deal with it. She wanted to feel like herself again and get back out on the tennis court.

Although we spent lots of time praying for strength and healing, I don’t think either one of us could imagine getting through this valley and finding ourselves celebrating on the other side. I have no doubt that the prayers and encouragement of family members and dear friends pulled us through.

Gracious miracles do indeed happen. After chemo, surgery, more chemo, and radiation, my Mom is cancer-free. She has resumed her fast-paced life-swimming, playing tennis, working too hard, and making sure I behave myself. (That’s when I knew it was OK for me to move back home to Nashville.) The support she received from so many still humbles both of us. The fact that she is doing so wonderfully fills me with immense gratitude for God’s grace.

I’ve finally felt like it is the appropriate time to share “Say Amen” once more. My Mom never heard it when I sang it with Ronell, but now that she knows the lyrics, she says that she wished she could have had it to listen to this time last year.

My prayer is that this song—and the rest of the record—will bring hope to your heart, and to the hearts of those you know who might be suffering. I continue to be in awe of how precious life is and how little control we have over it. In my darkest hours or my brightest moments, I hope that I will always be able to say, “Amen” and encourage others to do the same.

This Ain’t Your Grandma’s Hymns Record

But it was supposed to be. Both of my grandmothers have been asking me to record a collection of hymns ever since I started this music thing. And I always thought I would do that some day…just for them.

But, as I traveled the country, continually hearing “worship” ditties where the word “baby” could easily replace the name “God,” I figured that some other folks besides my family might enjoy a hymns record, too.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I grew up in a church where we’d sing a certain hymn only twice a year, as not to become “complacent” when singing the lyrics. Since I usually didn’t have the words in Braille, I could hum the tunes of hymns and even play many of them on piano, but I did not know their lyrics, nor did I care to.

When I arrived in Nashville for college, I was pleasantly surprised to find that most songs performed in church were very easy to memorize. But after a few years of simplicity, I suppose my brain began to wonder whether there might have been more to those archaic pieces of work I’d heard growing up than I first thought.

That’s when my hymn research began. I read through lyric after lyric of the most amazingly beautiful poetry, prayers, psalms, and laments. Such depth. Such magnificent language. And mostly from authors and composers who didn’t live much past forty.

I uncovered some unique pieces like “Blind Bartimaeus,” a hymn written by Fanny Crosby. Not a romantic sounding title, but the lyrics sure are…you can just picture Bartimaeus at the temple gates shouting the verses to Jesus as He passed by.

I discovered some songs in very unusual places, too. Being a lover of all things Ken Burns, I watched a documentary he made about the Shakers. (Watch it if you haven’t. I’m on my thousandth viewing, I think.) The Shakers were incredible craftsman, but they also created wonderful music. The melodies, though simple and singable, are hauntingly beautiful. The words are straightforward and humble—and perfect.

Finally, there’s the stuff I love with all my heart—the “soulful” Soul music. I grew up on a steady diet of Black Gospel music. (I’m sure you couldn’t tell.) And it ain’t scared to show up on this project.

There are two reasons why I decided to title this offering “Say Amen.” (I’ll wait to share one of those reasons in my next post.)

People of faith have always found magnificent ways to say, “Amen!” I hope that as you listen to this record, you will experience the timeless power and beauty of their lyrics, and will say, “Amen,” too.

Rain

“Ever since you went away,

Everything’s been wrong;

My days have felt so empty

And my nights are feeling long.

Feels like it might take years

Before these dark clouds are gone;

But nothing is as it feels-

That’s why I write this song.

‘Cause it looks like rain…”
…

Long before many of you were born, a singer named Karen Carpenter crooned, “Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”

I rarely feel that way about either, but today could be the exception. It’s Monday morning at 6:40 a.m. We’ve just schlepped through the rain to board the regional jet that will take us from Des Moines to Cincinnati, where we’ll have a three-hour layover before heading to Nashville. Hopefully I’ll make it in time to teach my afternoon class.

So I’m just a little cold and wet and tired…and aware that this might be the perfect morning to explain “Rain,” one of the new songs featured on Ephemera.

“Rain” is the only song on the project composed in less than a day—and in less than an hour, in fact. It was a last-minute addition-written just a day and a half before I went into the studio. Since most songs on this project went to tape with me playing and singing at the same time, I had to remember the lyrics and chords well enough to put them together—and to do it with feeling. I was somewhat surprised at how easily I was able to recall the words. I mean, it wasn’t perfect the first time…or the second time…but by the third take, I was able to perform the entire song without forgetting a lyric. (I think I rewrote the bridge each time I retook the song, so that part doesn’t count.)

Upon first listen, one would assume this song is simply about a break-up, where one person is left alone to nurse her broken heart. (And if this isn’t what you’ve gotten from the song, please do tell.)

Whether it is because I am a songwriter, a female, or a female songwriter, there are, of course, several additional layers to this lyric. I must confess that I dislike sadness immensely, especially when I know it’s going to linger for awhile. C.S. Lewis wrote an incredible memoir on suffering after the loss of his wife to cancer entitled A Grief Observed. In it, he writes of that physical tenseness and emotional anxiety usually acquainted with fear, and how it becomes very familiar while in the throws of deep sadness.

Although deep sadness isn’t welcome here,, I’ve been graced with its presence quite often during the past several years. I think the dark clouds began to set in when the record label I’d always thought of as “family” started to unravel. Next came the most confusing and painfull (and necessary) break-up (with a guy) I’ve ever experienced. And then there was the discovery that one of my dearest friends—an absolute angel—was facing an indefinite battle with acute MS. Several months later, I was invited into the world of an incredible 20-year-old lady who was talented beyond belief. She always loved to sing, but discovered her ability to write music and poetry when she discovered she had an enormous battle to fight with a cruel, terminal cancer. The six months I knew her were the last six months of her life.

Not long after this “downpour” came the next—the passing of my wonderful Grandfather. We were kindred spirits–both introverts thrust into extrovert work. He was the kind of Grandfather who would sit with me at the piano when I was young, singing his heart out as I made futile attempts to play his favorite hymns by ear…

And then, Mom got sick…

None of these things is about me, and yet it is impossible not to witness each of them with an immense amount of sadness. And I’ve spent a good portion of time trying to fight my way through the rain.

My Mom always likes to say, “This, too, shall pass,” and I know it’s true. The broken heart that comes from the loss of a relationship that never should have happened to begin with shall indeed pass. The acute sense of loss we feel when a friend or family member has passed away will perhaps become less unbearable over time. However, in order to experience a loss or walk with someone through their suffering, we must acknowledge and even accept the rain as part of the process. I don’t think that we’re meant to become completely comfortable with rain; if we did, we’d be too intense and melancholy to do anyone—including ourselves–any good. But experience has taught me that it is good to be familiar with rain—respectful of its reality and mindful of its necessity in our lives.

And you thought it was just some dumb lovesong.

Want some free music?

I’m looking for folks to spread the word about my new EP, ephemera. So here’s the deal – you go blog, digg, facebook, myspace…whatever it is you do online. Then drop me a line through the contact form here on the site, and be sure to include the link where you’ve talked about me. (It isn’t gossip if I ask you to do it!)

I’m in the studio this week recording a song just for you all. It’s only available to my peeps who help get the word out!

Thank you

G.

Ephemera: What is it? Who does it? How’d It Get Here?

It seems that, over the past several years, I’ve spent my time doing everything but making records. Although I’ve been aching to get back into the studio, I’ve known that it wasn’t time—until now.

Many of you know that this past March, I temporarily moved back to Jackson, Ms to partner with my Mom in her journey through intensive cancer treatment. The treatment is nearing its end and has proven to be successful. Both of these things are, as you can imagine, incredible blessings.

I’ve returned (part-time) to Nashville to record a full-length project, do some teaching, and see my friends again. But I didn’t leave Mississippi before making a little gift for you—a gift which will hopefully commemorate the past while celebrating the hope of the future. This gift is called Ephemera.

I carefully considered several simple, conservative titles which would require little explanation…Jackson, Magnolia Epiphanies, and ContEmPlations were a few of our favorites. Then, in the eleventh hour, our Web Majesty Rebecca said, “What about Ephemera?”

After some extensive internet research, I was hooked! First and foremost, the letters “E” and “P” which appear first in Ephemera, perfectly predict the sort of project this will be. (For those who don’t know what an EP is, it is an abbreviation for “Extended Play” and refers to a project which is shorter in length than a regular 10-song record. 10-song vinyl albums used to be called LP’s which stands for “Long Play.” Wikipedia can probably tell you why this is the case; I, unfortunately, cannot.)

Ephemera is a simple, intimate projecct with only vocals, piano, and acoustic guitar. Most of the songs are originals, and will likely appear with full production on the next studio project. The remaining few are some of my favorite songs from other artists like Stevie Wonder and Carol King.

When I researched ephemera, I found the most fasinating—and relevant—definitions. For those who, like me, missed this word in vocabulary class, ephemera describes things which are short-lived and not intended to be preserved—like an old TV show which was broadcast before archiving was possible, a note written on a scratch pad, a special postage stamp created and sold for only a short time, or even a flower which is here today and gone tomorrow.

Many ephemera are collectors’ items, and some are junk. One of Wikipedia’s definitions for ephemera is “transitory.” (And just by the way, I’d love to meet the web-savvy wordsmith who is diligent and dedicated enough to write out an intelligent explanation on “ephemera” for Wikipedia.)

This particular Ephemera is a collection of songs which were written while I was learning about the ephemeral qualities our lives possess. We are here but for a moment. We might be considered collector’s items, or we might be tossed out with other unimportant matter. It’s up to us. But the best part is that God promises us much more than an ephemeral existence should we receive it.

On a lighter note, this project will only be around for a short while. As it is a gift to my fans and friends, it is meant to provide insight into the last several years of my life, while also offering you something special that will be replaced when the new project is finished.

I hope you enjoy listening to these new songs as much as I enjoyed creating them. I’ll tell you more about each one in the coming days.

Blessings and love to you all.

(Album Art – Grace Ellis Barber, Album Font – Jellyka Castle’s Queen)

Happy Sundae!

Well, ok, I know that isn’t the correct spelling, but we should all indulge in one on our day of rest…I mean, can anyone argue with that? Chocolate, caramel, butterscotch, strawberry, nuts, and more chocolate?

Today I’ve had spaghetti, whole-grain bread, steamed broccoli, and a little bit of fresh fruit. Not exactly a sundae. Not even close. But quite delicious, nonetheless.

It’s been a crazy week…lots of new music coming. But all that studio work’s a bit exhausting, I must confess. So My brain is on sibatical today. Sort of…

I’ve been watching the Olympics. How amazing is it? The crazy thing is that you don’t even have to “see” the Olympics to know how fantastic the talent is! You can hear it from the crowd, and sense the excitement as olympians do their things–floor exercises in gymnastics, intense swimming, weight-lifting, basketball, and right now, some sport like soccer that we don’t see so often in the U.s. I am amazed and humbled by the dedication and courage of these Olympians. And I can’t help but wonder what I’d be like if I had half the discipline of these brilliant athletes. What if I devoted even half an hour each day to that “thing” that I’m most passionate about? What if I was in a constant state of mental preparedness to achieve my goals? Well, if I could manage those things, perhaps I’d be at the Olympics right now. Perhaps we all would. Or at least we’d be ten miles ahead in our own life pursuits. Or perhaps everyone else is driven, disciplined, and dedicated, and you have already achieved your goals. For me, it isn’t quite so easy. But I’m learning. And this week, I’m inspired. I’m going to run the race! Swim the length of the big pool! do more balance beam stunts, And even try to play some soccer…hmmm…ok, that might be a bit over-zealous, but the previous declarations are definitely part of my current agenda. Yours, too? If not, than take this challenge to do so! You were made to do these things! And besides, Olympians can’t have all the fun…:-)

So new music is coming next week…I can hardly wait!

Thanks for your kind postings on the blogs. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed reding all of them. You guys are incredible! Thanks for all you do!

–Blessings, G O

Tuesday is better than no day at all…

OK, so it’s not Sunday anymore. Sunday was a crazy day, and I didn’t get my blog turned in to the Web Majesty in time. But now that she’s taught me how to post my own blogs, I’ll have no more excuses. So pretend it’s Sunday, and hear the words of the Sunday Blog.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are born to make manifest the Glory of God that is within us… And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.”
–Marianne Williamson

“…it would seem that our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about…when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”
–C. S. Lewis

I love both of these quotes so very much, and, although it might be a stretch to some, I find that their separate thoughts connect beautifully.

There lies, within each of our hearts, some obstacle which prevents us from fully embracing the incredibly astonishing dreams that our Creator has dreamt for us. Whether it is fear, doubt, a need to control, stubbornness, laziness, or a combination of these things that stands between who we are and who God longs for us to be, we can rest assured that we’ll always be wrestling with such challenges.

“Gee, thanks, GO. That’s encouraging. Why don’t you consider blogging about happier subjects.”

But it is happy—well, maybe happy is the wrong word. It’s joyful…it’s hopeful…We are alive for so much more than we can see from our tiny window—we were created for purposes we cannot possibly imagine. And we’re given the humbling opportunity to be reflections of God’s radiant beauty to all those we come in contact with—should we choose to receive that gift. What a blessing it is, then, to be alive!

So keep wrestling those beasts to the ground! Keep radiating the hope God has given you! And most of all, never stop believing in the magnificent dreams, incredible glory, and perfect Love of the One you cannot see. This belief will make conquering the obstacles a much more invigorating adventure.

Happy Wednesday!

As I write this, the hour hand has barely made it to seven…a.m. This is usually how the party starts here at Mom’s house. Today we took the dogs to the park for a walk at around 5:30, grabbed coffee from the drive-through that’s better than Starbucks, and got back home just after 6:30. I’ve had breakfast, returned a few emails and voice messages, made my to-do list for the day, and will begin working on music in a short bit. And by lunchtime, I’ll be ready to crash.

I’m the epitomy of fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-if-I-can-find-my-pants-in-my-messy-room, but I’ve learned a little about juggling my time over the past few months. But only a little. It’s funny how life can re-shape your most stubborn behaviors, isn’t it?

Anyhow, I just had a couple of things to tell you today. First, we should have new music in a few very short weeks…like maybe two or three at the most. We’ll have a link in the store for you to pre-order sometime later this week. I’ll tell you more about the music in upcoming posts. Speaking of posts, that’s the other thing I wanted to write you about. There are so many things to catch up on, and I’d love to know which things you’d like to read about most. I even made a “to-write-for-the-blog” list. Still I’d like to know…if I write it, will you read it? I mean, I personally don’t like reading boring blogs…

So here’s my list. Post a comment if you have any passionate feelings one way or the other on what you’d like to know—or not know—about GO. Otherwise, I’ll just keep writing…and writing…and writing…

–The Lost Years: Where I’ve been hiding and what I’ve been doing for the past two (or more) years

–The new stuff: The stories behind the songs

–Politics: “I’m a lover; not a fighter.”

–Stories: I’m thinking about posting some of the fiction I’ve been writing, but I can’t quite decide…

–Road reports: Tales from Tour

–The DogBlog: The Beast (a.k.a.Bailey, my Toy Australian Shepherd) has many opinions about many things…balls, squirrels, treats, other dogs, etc.—and he’d like to speak out. He’s also much more passionate about pop culture and politics than I am, so I promised him some blogtime.

–Rantings and Ravings: This is what most personal blogs are, right?

Well, that’s all I got for now. Gee, I’m getting sleepy…Is it too early for a nap?

No Need For Need?

Welcome to Sunday at the GO Blog. since it’s the first day of the week, and, of course, the day when most of us get to rest and regroup before being launched, once again, into Monday, I thought it’d be a good day to adopt as our “Day of Reflection.” Besides, it usually takes me at least a week of contemplation to assimilate and articulate my thoughts, so if I begin thinking again on Monday, I’ll hopefully have something to share by the following Sunday.

Today’s reflection has been on my heart for months, and trying to put it into words has proved to be no easy task. So I pose it to you in the form of a question: “How much do you need?”

(I could have said “how well do you need,” or “how often are you aware of your need,” but those questions, though more precise, don’t have nearly the same ring.)

I, for one, have despised the idea of “need” since I can remember. To have a need is to appear weak, useless, and insignificant…or at least, that’s what I thought.

That’s what we’re taught, right? Most of us are quite familiar with the verse “it is better to give than to receive,” and most of us live our lives with this in mind. We give of our time, our talents, and our resources, without asking for anything in return. We do this because it seems right… and, let’s face it, at the end of the day, we feel much better about ourselves. Our ability to give without a need to receive anything in return means we’re strong, empowered individuals, capable of handling our own lives while also competently juggling the needs and demands of those around us. Look at us go!

I come from a long line of strong, bold, empowered, courageous women who work hard, sacrifice for the needs of others, and seemingly need very little for themselves. I also grew up in a world where it was better to pretend to know everything than to ever have to ask for help. (Didn’t we all?)

So it didn’t take long for me to figure out that being blind was a terrible weakness. It forced me to wear a “I NEED YOUR HELP” sign, automatically qualifying me for such honors as the “bless her poor little heart” murmurs, and the “Hi there, Ginny” good-deed-for-the-day shouts.

Up until a few short years ago, I lived every day of my life embarrassed and angry because of that invisible sign which told people that I “need.” Although I’m not so embarrassed now, I still have the same needs. I cannot drive myself to the grocery store or pick out the cutest outfit or wink at the hottest guy. Someone has to help me with all of those things—at least on some level.  Worst of all, I cannot change the fact that when I walk into a room, I’m labeled by most people as a person who will “need” more than anyone else.

“Yeah, yeah, Ginny, we’ve heard this all before. You became very introverted because of mean people pointing out your weaknesses, and then you had an awakening and started to write songs about beauty and freedom and God’s love. Turns out those people did some good in your life after all.”

Well, since awakenings are a continual thing, this story relates to some newer ones not yet written about in a bio.  Besides, the point is different. Part of becoming who we are created to be is opening ourselves to others—giving not only of our talents and stuff, but also of our souls—including, but not limited to, our love, our personal stories, and our needs. To need is not a sign of weakness, but is instead a sign of honesty, humility, and yes—even normalcy. (It’s true! Even I have one “normal” quality.)

We are all vulnerable, and we all have needs. Pretending that we don’t simply makes us appear untouchable and very challenging to relate to. And if we pretend that we don’t need anything from anyone for long enough, we’ll begin to believe it ourselves. Our hearts will become hard and cold, as we look down upon those foolish creatures who “just can’t get it together.”

And how did I arrive at these conclusions? Well, that’s for future entries. But this blog is not about me at all, actually. For the past six months, I’ve been walking through cancer treatment with my Mom. We’ve been through a chemo sandwich with surgery in the middle, and tomorrow she begins radiation treatment. Because of the love, prayers, and support of friends and family, the treatments and surgery have been successful.

But I thought that my ability to need was bad—till I moved in with my Mom. She’s the strongest, most independent woman on the planet—(besides my grandmothers and my aunts, of course)—and she has had no use for needing. Her past led her to believe that to need is to be weak. And to be weak is humiliating, especially when you’ve got lots of strength, courage, and independence in your bones.

During this journey, we’ve both learned much about the disarming beauty of needing others. It’s called community. It’s the way God created us to live. The kindness that our communities of friends have shown to us during this time has been humbling. I am continually reminded that life is a much more fulfilling and enlightening journey when we allow others to see us without our super-hero capes on and help us with our challenges. Mom doesn’t enjoy shedding her cape quite as much as I do, but she’s learning to like it better, I think.  I know that having a need—and watching that need be tangibly met—has been a life-changing experience for both of us.

Allow yourself to have this same experience. Need. Admit it. Embrace it. Allow others to fulfill it. Ask God to use it to change your life.

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