|Photo credit: William Broughton, age 6|
Have you walked through a season - maybe right now - where you feel like your creativity is bottled up inside of you, waiting for a chance to come out? Since I’m in the throes of early motherhood, that’s me, most of the time! But every once in a while, despite my crazy, interruption-filled days and miles-long to-do list, something creative leaks out and finds room to breathe. And that feels hopeful to me.
I write songs for all sorts of reasons: to tuck Scripture inside my heart. To express myself to Jesus. To capture a quote I love. To revitalize an old hymn text.
Mostly, I write music because it gives me hope.
There’s definitely something creative in spreading peanut butter on apple slices for my kids (in between writing these sentences). But then there’s the specific “art you were made to live”, which Emily Freeman describes in her hope-filled book A Million Little Ways. Something deep inside me starts to wither if I don’t intentionally exercise my creativity beyond cooking meals, playing with my kids, and trying to keep my house relatively dirt-free and attractive.
When I feel a song rising in me, it gives me hope that my creativity is still alive despite the fog of fatigue and swirl of mundane tasks. So I pay attention, and try to write in the little cracks of time I can find. It isn’t perfect, or as much as I’d like, but it keeps hope alive.
For me, music is a bridge between the seasons of my life.
Rewind ten years to my first stint overseas, fresh out of college....