She's Leaving Home.

Tomorrow, I will pack up and leave town.

Again.

But. This journey will be different from any other in the past.
-With my own set of keys, I will lock the door of my own place behind me
-My calling, missions, and my love, music, will for the first time be purposefully combined
 -I will leave behind a dear one who now holds part of my heart

Preparing to leave the country while moving out of your parents' home is quite a drastic undertaking. Those lacking a strong constitution should avoid such a thing at all costs. Last Sunday, I moved into Detroit with the hopes of living purposefully in the city I called home for the majority of my childhood and teen years.

And tomorrow I will leave it.


I learned once that music is the only message that can reach people without their permission. It meets their spirits. Europe is a place that was once on fire for God but is now "enlightened" past fervor into a frozen wasteland of humanism. During the Olympics this summer, the world will flood their doorstep. I read this during my time with Jesus this morning, and it will be my goal:  


"I will say to the north, ‘Give them up!’ and to the south, ‘Do not hold them back.’ Bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the ends of the earth — 
7 everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made. ”
8 Lead out those who have eyes but are blind, who have ears but are deaf." Isaiah 43: 6-8


Doing something you love for Jesus is at once the chance and the challenge of a lifetime. I feel pressure to push for perfect performances, but I know that God wants to use the Spirit inside of me, even more than the music I produce. I played a small show last night with an acoustic set of my band, the Normandies. I was reminded how much I love making music and how blessed I am to be a part of it.

And it goes without saying, that this will be the hardest thing to leave behind:

You may be asking yourself, where is the independent, wandering, loner I once knew? She is still alive and well, but she is ever changing.

London bound tomorrow evening at 6:45pm. Rucksack on my back, guitar at my side, and heart in my throat.

Summer Swell Pt. 1

I’m not famous.
I’m not an art student with an awesome camera.
But I’m Deb’s friend, so I’ll write a blog anyway. And she will read it.

My life for the past month has been a celebration of summer.
I spent three weeks in the sweet South where I learned to run at night, love the smell of Egyptian Queen tobacco, and that God wants to fill my mind with Himself.

I experienced Greyhound yet again when I traveled from Dallas to Birmingham. What an adventure that was. I utilize the word “adventure” only as a mechanism to make myself feel better about the food stuck to the seats, the coolant that dripped from overhead, and the creepy old-timer that sat next to me.

I flew home from Birmingham on Thursday and went straight to my 10-year-old brother’s tournament baseball game. Klark’s team had made it to game 6, the highest anyone from their age level and league had ever risen, but lost that day. They had played like men, but that day they cried like boys :(

From there, my bags in tow, I went to band rehearsal with Katie on Grosse Isle. The Willing had two shows that weekend. My dear friend, Stephanie’s wedding in Mackinaw and the iArt Festival in Redford.
We left for Mackinaw the next day.
Four and a half hours to the tip of the mitten.
Four and half hours of pure Michigan.

Good music was scarce past Bay City, so we talked about life and I twisted my unruly hair.

The next day I ran in the early morning with the pines and the crows, the smell of the Great Lakes filling my heaving lungs.


We were late to the reception of course, but arrived in time to play and sing as the boat that carried ourselves and the wedding party slid between Lake Huron and Lake Michigan beneath the Mackinac Bridge.

As beautiful as the wedding was, I was pleasantly surprised at my little heart.
No emptiness. No girlish longings. As independent as ever. An attitude befitting an Iron Maiden ;)

We left in the rain and sped back to Detroit. Kendall rode back with us. Shockingly, we arrived in time to catch the Avett Brothers at the Philmore! Every cent was worth my while. The Brothers delivered their usual energetic and heartfelt performance and I danced and sang my heart out.


Better still, Ken and I got to meet them afterwards. I was finally able to ask Scott about the meaning of my favorite song: Down With the Shine.
They were as warm and genuine as old friends and I can’t wait to see them again!

The next day, I carried my weary feet to Redford for the art festival. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and a less-than-competent sound guy made for a sub-standard show. Time to shove the practice notch up a gear!

I think I might move to England next year.
More later :)