“Try B flat!” my mom called out from another room as I plunked out keys on the piano.  My mom, who was a pianist with perfect pitch, was my first musical influence.  A woman of profound faith, she also taught me to sing harmony and play piano by ear.  Along with my brother, we perfected a rousing rendition of “Amazing Grace” that could be heard down the block.

In junior high and high school, I became involved in the Willow Creek youth groups.  Musically, a major influence at this time would have to be camp songs:  everything from “Father Abraham” (with all the motions) to “This is the Day,”  to all of the worship songs.  During the summer, I spent time at Camp Paradise in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Here, the connection of music to nature was particularly strong; simple music connected to creation without any distractions.  There was no electricity, no running water, and no noise, other than birds and the river and an occasional porcupine chewing on the base of our cabin.  I still long for that kind of sheer simplicity, especially in this complicated (and cacophonous) modern world.

At Wheaton College I learned to appreciate the importance and the beauty of liturgy and tradition.  When the right words are matched with music it can become very powerful and can supercede time.  Think of such powerful hymns such as “How Great Thou Art,” for example. I had one professor (Dr. Joseph McClatchy) who began each class of Modern Mythology with a hymn.  Sometimes he’d pick obscure ones and though I struggled with the melody, I was struck by the meaning in the words.  We rarely knew the original story of why the song was written, but yet we still derive significance.  Dr. McClatchy was not self-conscious at all; he was full of passion and followed his heart, and I was impressed by the freedom in that.

After Wheaton, I became a high school English teacher and pursued a Masters’ degree in English Literature at the University of Illinois at Chicago.  As a way to express creativity and perhaps as a cheaper alternative to therapy, I began writing songs and singing at open mics.  This led to a musical adventure, for sure.  For fun, I joined a pop/rock band named Flammable Dress and gained experience writing and performing.  I learned that music can be a magical way to bring people together—long lost cousins, friends and co-workers.  We sang everywhere in the city from Navy Pier, to the House of Blues, to Yacht clubs, and even to O’Hare Airport during the holidays.  At O’Hare, one year we sang Christmas songs to stranded passengers who sat cross-legged on the floor and even helped a woman who lost a heel duct tape it back together as she hobbled toward the train.

The culmination of this experience was winning a contest for the best Female-led Vocal Band in Chicago (in 1999).   The day after this, I went on my first date with my husband.  This, of course, led to an entirely new direction in my life.  Writing songs became more challenging (it’s easy to write about angst and break-ups—harder to write about happy, stable, ordinary days).  The band faded and soon we were married.  Now, we have four children (the oldest is 7), and I pride myself now in an eclectic version of Old MacDonald (complete with visual aids).

Some time ago, my best friend’s husband invited me to sing at his Installment Ceremony (as a pastor in the Presbyterian Church).  It had been a long time since I had really connected with music.  That’s where I met Mark and Duncan and they shared their vision of Blacksmith with me.  I became excited at the idea of writing again and marvelled at the way life seems to come full-circle.  To quote a line from an earlier song entitled “Faith,” “God has pieces of a puzzle, that He throws into the air/Where they land, is always a mystery/Let them go, where they will, for they somehow make things clear/No more trying, to impose my plan…”

So, here I am.