Lessons in finding the good.

"Quip is the city
Quip is the town
We are together
We're never goin' do-own."

Lyrics that are dear to my heart. Did they win a Grammy? No. Were they written by a famous singer/songwriter? No. Did this song make its' way up the Top 40 chart? No.

These were written by youth of Aliquippa, PA, who attended an arts camp last summer through the nonprofit, Aliquippa Impact. For two months, a small group of youth met with myself and my co-teacher, Bill, three nights a week to learn about different music genres, composers, rhythmic styles, types of instruments, song structures, etc. Some of them had private instruction in piano, voice, and guitar. We spent the majority of our time learning about basic pop songwriting structure and had the youth write their own verses, choruses, bridges, and melodies. The song that came to complete fruition by the end of the summer was titled, "Quip Is the City," and it featured a short 3-4 line verse by each student, along with the chorus and bridge that they had created as a group.

Why is this such a big deal? Can't kids and youth be taught this anywhere? What makes it so different from any other learning environment?

Welcome to Aliquippa, PA: home to the negative views of nearby towns, a reputation that I felt rudely awoken to every time I encountered someone outside of Aliquippa and, after hearing my response to their question of my location, would respond with fear, disdain, or both. From my understanding, Aliquippa is thought of as the town where nothing good happens; where prostitution, drug trafficking, gangs, and crack houses serve at the town's present identity. You'll find plenty of news articles like this and not enough like this.

Those of us that have lived or worked in Aliquippa beg to differ on this overly pessimistic view. Establishments such as Uncommon Grounds Cafe or the nonprofit of Aliquippa Impact are two of the brightest beacons of lights to shine in an otherwise darker city. The vision and heart behind the actions of their staff are beautiful examples of the love of Christ for those who desperately need to believe they are created for purpose - for something far greater than what they have been deceived into thinking life is all about.

I love the collaboration between Jay-Z and Alicia Keys for the song, "Empire State of Mind." I think it is such a beautiful concept to find pride and purpose in the places that you are from - the experiences that made you a stronger person, the sights and smells that leave you nostalgic on a rainy day, the memories you held with friends and families. I feel the need to clarify that this is not my attempt at painting a naive picture of beauty or of warm, fuzzy historical backgrounds. I realize that there is a lot of pain and places gladly left behind in our pasts and upbringing. But I also believe there are a lot of places in our lives worth remembering and worth using as markers of lessons learned. There is good and beauty worth writing and singing about all around us.

My music students last summer were told to keep in mind this idea of telling their own individual stories as they wrote their lyrics. I cannot express how moving it was to watch them slowly but surely find written ways of expressing the parts of their life worth celebrating - a kind word, a good meal, a favorite sport, a favorite family member, future career ambitions. Bit by bit, bright lights of hope emerge from the creative outlets discovered by the youth of this town.

I return to Aliquippa on Thursday morning to teach a similar course for the month of July. I ask your prayers and encouragement, friends.

Falling Whistles: A Campaign For Peace in the Congo

Children in the Congo that are too weak to hold a gun are given whistles and sent to the front lines of war. They blow the whistle if they see the enemy coming and, because of their placement at the front, are the first to take a round of bullets.

The organization, Falling Whistles, was created in order to raise awareness of this injustice. A group of five guys are traveling across the U.S. on their bicycles to raise awareness for the campaign for peace in the Congo. They are stopping by in Charlotte tonight for a potluck and night of sharing their passion for this cause at my house from 6-8pm.

I do not have very much time this morning to write more, but I ask for your prayers tonight as our hearts are burdened and (hopefully) will be driven towards action in whatever ways we are able.

Please visit the website and read the stories: Falling Whistles

Lessons in living without.

I'm working on edits of photos from India. Finally.

Just before leaving for India, I contacted a camera repair shop to inquire about a small damage on my camera. I was crushed to discover that the repair would cost me almost as much as I had originally paid for the camera itself. So I decided to go without it.

As a photography-loving woman, I held the photographic documentation of my trip as a high priority. Deciding to not spend money that I did not have on the repair was a decision that I knew would be right, but far from easy. My mother, knowing my predicament, offered to let me use her point-and-shoot instead, which I was surprised by and very grateful for. I knew it would not have the features that I would have liked to have, but it would still, at least, capture images.

A few days into the trip, her camera began malfunctioning on me. (I still, to this day, have no idea why.) I had taken good care of it and the batteries were fine. I knew instantly that I would have to start returning to my original mindset of living without something I loved, but would certainly wake up each morning breathing without. After settling this in my mind, I remember feeling a strong peace wash over me, a reminder that I was still taken care of and thought of by my Creator. I know it may not seem like a big deal to others, but I believe that my Father knows my heart and was doing His best to take care of it through the lesson of letting go and living without.

My dear friend, Kevin (who was part of the group living in Manali for six months) decided to lend me his point-and-shoot camera for the remainder of the trip after hearing about my recurring predicament.

I am truly blessed to have such beautiful, generous hearts placed in my path. I am truly blessed to have the peace of my Father, who provides for and teaches and waits patiently as we are learning what is necessary to grow.

Ironically, when I returned to North Carolina, I had enough money in tax returns to replace my old camera with an upgraded version.

Such is life.

That old, familiar feeling

4.18.10.

Conflict.

It's here again - that familiar, yet uncomfortable feeling that I get whenever all of the strings attaching my heart to multiple places begin to stretch and pull wildly, stealing all of my attention away from those around me and forcing my mind to only think of where I need to be in life.

My heart easily attaches to situations where the potential is high, but accessibility is low (if ever existing) and I can easily fit the position of accessibility. My heart attaches whenever I am with students that could move mountains with their artistic abilities, but just need some pushing and belief from someone who is willing to invest in their lives.

My heart is torn when, on the first day in India, I am told by the pastor of the Lady Willingdon church that I am "the one;" that they have been praying for God to send a musician/keyboard player for two years and now I am here.

I don't know that he has any idea of the conflict and torment that adds to my heart's tugging and pulling. Surely not.

Why am I only here for eight days? This is another question that I have been battling with all week. I suppose the purpose of this trip was designed to be for encouragement of the team that is already here for six months and that is an awesome purpose, to be sure. For some, the purpose of this trip is for exposure to cultures other than their own. For some, it is for a new burden for the lives of those hurting or struggling around the world.

For others, it looks like a foggy, blobbing mass of gray, with no real peace or answer - just another string added to the tugs of the heart to go and serve where needed.

Here I am, on the final day of this trip, and I am face to face with a foggy, blobbing mass of gray. No peace, no resolve. Just a desperate attempt at holding to the hope that answers will come in time. That these strings will, one by one, quiet their flailing until only one remains in the fight for where I will go next.

I don't mind vagabonding at all. As a matter of fact, I am an advocate and practice it frequently.

I also know now that I don't want to vagabond for the sake of vagabonding. I want to go where I can be used. More specifically, I want to go where I can be used to inspire and encourage others in their untapped abilities.

I won't get into the most specific details of my daydreaming within a move-to-another-country-and-teach-music context. Those are dangerous thoughts for me right now, especially with such a delicate heart situation.

Sunrise at Dar Ul Fazl.

4.16.10.

Jagged, snow-tipped outlines

Neighbor the well-worn hills of Manali..

Old and new are here in this place.

Sing, sing, sing.

Early to rise, a flocking chorus of birds

One, two, then six.

Songs echoing off the concrete walls of this third-story porch.

Early to rise, their story lines

Meet the new light of the morning.

The cracking of open doors and

Clanging of window panes from nearby homes..

Families beginning the day's routine.

Clip-clop, as the workhorse is drawn from its slumber.

Early to rise, a young boy

Brings the water pail to the front garden,

Bringing life to what will grow in the Indian sun.

Soon the small girls will stoop over and,

clasping their tiny hands in another's,

begin to form sounds of wonder and awe

as they choose which color will best fit the day.

Early to rise, the voices of tenants

Are slowly blending into the melodies

Already begun by nature's trumpeteering vagabonds -

Those who have already sounded

The morning's first notes of rejoice and bewilderment.

Not long now until the sleepy eyes of children will wake to this day,

Fresh and anew with places for learning and growing..

And we will all sit together with

Heads bowed, giving thanks for the

Song of morning.

Amen.

Battles with Fear and Insects

4.15.10.

Sleep has certainly not been the theme of this week. I spent the night in the Dar Ul Fazl (DUF) children's home last night: a beautiful campus of 3-4 story buildings, gardens, courtyard where the children play and smiling faces of the young residents here. It's just outside of the markets of new Manali, set deeper in the Himalayas, accessible by a steep, winding dirt road.

I had the true priviledge of rehearsing music with Charlene and some of the boys that live here in the home - a rehearsal for a service on Sunday morning. I then taught one of the boys a piano lesson for about an hour and, by the time we were finished, I was definitely ready for some sleep.

By the time I reached my room for the night, it was well into the darker hours of the night. As I shut my bedroom door, I was face to face with what sparks my inner girliness like none other: indoor insects. Moths fluttering around the long flourescent tube on the ceiling, unidentified crawlers on the walls (a few in my bed as well) and three to four stringy webs with their spider makers scattered around the room.

No, I did not sleep but maybe an hour or two, collectively. Yes, I lay in bed covering my ear with my hand (to keep the curious crawlers out!). True, I forced my eyes shut, trying desperately to also force out the sound of beating insect wings against the window above my head.

But I also became one of the quickest, most ruthless fly swatter users in all of northern India.

Worth it.

Shed a little light...

"Shed a little light so I can find you.

Don't let darkness hide you from my face..." --Foy Vance

I am very happy with the songs chosen for my traveling playlist: The Wider Sun (Jon Hopkins), Higher (Paper Tongues), This Family (Campbell), Mile-Long Driveway (Jeremy Current), Homebird (Foy Vance), Take To the World (Derek Webb), For the Widows in Paradise (Sufjan Stevens), Forgiveness (Patty

Griffin), Sliding Down (Edgar Meyer)....

As I was fading off into the night landscape of the view outside of my bus window, the song "Shed a Little Light" by Foy Vance took its' turn on my playlist. This song is such a prayer for my time here in India.

I have been told by several people that there is a certain darkness to India. That, spiritually, it can be a very empty place (Though I believe this to be true of my own country as well, with Christianity far from exempt...).

In any circumstance, I believe that hope and reconciliation cannot be achieved without that shedding of light. "Darkness," to me, extends beyond a difference of spiritual beliefs to a complete isolation of ourselves from other's lives - letting our cultural, physical, personal boundaries, spiritual, traditional differences separate rather than unite.

My prayer is for that light to be shone - that respect, that listening ear, that sharing of one's life - so brightly that the darkness is unable to hide us from one another. Because, at the core, are we not really bound by our similarities as well? Our need for

food.

water.

shelter.

something to believe in.

a search for something greater than ourselves.

healthy relationships.

empathy.

change.

growth.

family.

creative outlets.

sense of purpose.

These are lights worth shedding.