A Stone of Remembrance

If I were wearing boots, I'd be quaking in them.

I'm standing around,

Waiting for other people to have their turn.

I tell my best friend that I'm so shy,

I don't know what to say.

I've already ripped the plastic wrap off 3 CDs

And she has my camera around her neck.

I'm standing feet from one of my all-time favorite artists

Who's just given a phenomenal concert.

There's so much I'd like to say,

Like, "Thank you for being such an inspiration and encouragement to me."

"Thank you for all those blog posts that are such a help to young artists like me."

"Thank you for writing and singing truth."

"Thank you."

There's just one problem:

I am so shy.

Maybe it's because there's a fan girl in me,

And yet there's also an artist,

And maybe I know better than some just how human she really is?

Yet it feels a bit like meeting one of my heroes.

Maybe that's because it is?

I don't know.

The people in front of me finish,

And it's my turn,

And I open my mouth, not knowing what to say.

Fortunately, I don't have to start the conversation.

She looks at me and tells me I look familiar.

I'm absolutely shocked.

Somehow, the words, "Um, we've communicated online a couple of times" come out.

She thinks for a moment, then she says my name.

"Mary."

She knows my name.

This is turning out to be something even I wouldn't have dreamed up.

(And, believe me, I've dreamed up some pretty interesting encounters.)

She asks what I've been up to.

I stutter something about homework.

(Because, really, what else do college students do?

I can guarantee they don't sleep.)

Maybe she had to clarify,

Or maybe she wanted to know both,

Because next she says something about my music,

What I'm doing with that.

I don't even remember exactly what it was that she said,

But I know I would never have brought up my music on my own.

What have I been doing with my music lately?

It's kind of been one of those seasons . . .

Just no time.

And yet, there's more time than there was last year.

Maybe I just haven't been making time?

I manage to say that I haven't been doing as much as I'd like to,

But my goal for Christmas break is to put a set together.

She signs my 3 CDs

And we pose for a picture,

And I go home,

Scarcely even able to believe that Christa Wells knew who I was . . .

And asked about my music . . .

It takes me awhile to get to bed.

First, I must share the excitement of the evening with my friends on Facebook.

Then come the usual before-bed activities.

I open my composition book to write,

But it's a little hard with the refrain of "Shine" still coming through clear and strong in my head.

Instead, I flip through earlier pages,

Hurriedly scribbled characters

Spelling out the words I twist in my brain.

There are songs about friendship,

Songs about reconciliation,

Songs about mental illness,

Songs about laughter,

And lots of songs about being tired and needing sleep.

(I guess I should make more of an effort to write earlier in the day . . .)

I remember the events that sparked them -

The songs about death from when I watched my grandmother slip away,

The song about going into the river from a particularly inspirational sermon,

The song about steamer trunks from my family's summer cleaning project.

I look back on the pages

And find my years traced out in song,

These tiny stones of remembrance

Of the Faithfulness of God.

I finally manage to write something,

But falling asleep seems to be a different problem.

I can't stop thinking about my music -

All I've done,

All I haven't done.

But it's good.

It's good to remember what this last year has held.

It's good to remember that God has been working,

Even if it seems,

In my crazy, day-to-day life,

That not much has been going on music-wise.

Maybe it's time for me to lay a few stones of remembrance here?

What's Happened With My Music in the Past Year:

January
I got braver and ask some friends to critique a song for me while on a road trip.  They really liked it and asked me to sing it as we're riding in the van.  Very nervously, I did.  When I finished, everyone applauded.  I was humbled.
My friend encourages me to not write "elementary lyrics".  He knows that I can do better.  And I can.
I released Masterpiece, Album #2.
I'd gotten better at recording.
Maybe I'm getting a bit better at marketing, too?
I created a Facebook page the day after it released.
I asked for help through this blog in sharing about it.
Kelli Woodford and Pam Depoyan kindly responded to my pleas.
I'd never met them before, but I'm so glad I know them now!
I made my first $4.20 as an independent artist (and then some in the following weeks . . .).
I asked for $5 per album . . . and I sold almost all that I'd made (which wasn't very many, but every time someone asked for one, it meant the world to me).
"Past the Wishing" became the song that marked this season of my life.

February
According to Facebook, had writer's block for a couple of days.
Fortunately, it's never lasted too long.
Had my siblings take some new pictures of me.
Sold more CDs.
My amazing best friend recorded my first-ever interview, during which I talked way too much.
Lent.  I write "Fall on Grace".  I needed that song.  Still do.  Every day.
I showed the song to the friend who had given me advice on lyrics before, telling him those were the least elementary lyrics I'd ever written.  He agreed.
I nervously email my first draft to Ann Voskamp, whose post inspired the song.  She kindly writes back and thanks me for grace.

March
I'm just going to paste this from Facebook:

So Sunday, two days after once again coming face-to-face with some of my fears about my music (and particularly my voice, which happens to be my greatest insecurity in this area), two of the people at my church who had purchased CDs from me told me how much they enjoyed them! And one specifically told me that I had a lovely voice! It's amazing how God uses people to encourage us in exactly the areas in which we need the most encouragement! So blessed!

Released a demo recording of "Fall on Grace", which is still one of my favorite songs.
At one point, I was so inspired that I wrote songs on scrap paper in the middle of the day.  I love it when that happens!  So much fun!
Received a lot of encouragement from friends - seriously, there are days that this is what keeps me sharing what I write!

April
The cover art from my album was accepted in my school's art show.  Pretty impressive considering I used a cheap program that won't do what I want it to.
I was having trouble deciding what to write about and ended up with my best attempt yet on the issue of human trafficking.
I had a hard time going to sleep because I could imagine exactly how I would want a recording of the
song to sound and I really wanted to record it.
Several friends critiqued for me and one even started working on a guitar part for me.
Still would like to get that song recorded . . .

May
Divided songs on Noisetrade into albums.
Started working on my website.
Talked with Dad about maybe doing voice lessons.
Looked back at God's Faithfulness in my music.
Found that even remodeling can inspire music (as if there was ever any doubt).
Signed up to do special music in July.

June
Continued working on website in spare time.
Worked on updating all social media to match website.
Got my keyboard set back up in my room again.
Was a counselor at summer camp.  Sang one of my newer songs to my campers and they loved it.  One little girl wanted a recording.

July
Officially announced the new website.
Planned two weeks before special music to play the song I'd sung to my campers and an arrangement of "Past the Wishing".  Practiced once and made little progress.
Planned one week before special music to play "Fall on Grace" with a piano accompaniment and "How He Loves" because I knew it.  Lost hours of sleep throughout the week getting ready.
Asked Dad for help critiquing accompaniments and almost started bawling telling him how much I wanted to be doing music over the summer and literally hadn't had any time to practice.  The voice lessons the two of us had talked about earlier in the year never happened.
Played the songs for special music and even told the story behind "Fall on Grace".  Received a lot of compliments.

August
Started working on videos from July performance.
Had a little more time to practice.
Spent a couple nights before school started playing the piano for quite awhile.  Realized how much I miss that when I don't get it.

September
Was inspired to write in the middle of the day again.
Roommates critiqued some lyrics for me.  So good to have feedback!
Got the videos from my July performance posted.
Got to practice the piano for HPE homework.  Three times.  Best assignments ever!

October
Had a tough week struggling with sin.  Fought by playing and singing for awhile, and later singing hymns while doing the dishes.
Got to pose for a friend's art project (a.k.a. got to play the piano for over an hour!!!).
Went to Christa Wells' concert.  This is the closest thing I get to creative community, and it was awesome.
All the stuff this post started with.
Had several people ask about my music since the Christa Wells concert.  People at my new church are now starting to find out that I write.
Realized that my lyrics have been a bit more "elementary" lately and resolved to do better.
Spent the last several days thinking about my music, what God's been doing in my life, and what this all means to me.  Which has been totally awesome.

So, in sum?

God is Good.

And I've been missing that lately.

I've started praying for guidance again

As I'm trying to take steps on this crazy path He's leading me down

And hopefully I'll be paying more attention

To His Faithfulness in leading me as I walk.

Thank You, Jesus.

 

Faithful from Beginning to End

I've become much more comfortable with myself and my work in the past several years.

I've come a long way from that first song I wrote on the way back from choir practice almost a year and a half ago.

I've grown a lot since I found I was unable to stop writing less than six months ago.

Each day has been a chance to learn, a chance to continue to change,

And each day has been a tribute to God's unending faithfulness.

I wish I could find the words to more fully describe what an incredible experience this has been for me,

But, as I cannot, I would like to offer a bit of an example instead,

The lyrics to the first song I scratched down in my old, used composition book that Tuesday night nearly a year and a half ago

And the lyrics to the one hundred fiftieth song I wrote down in a "new" composition book (that's so beat up the words are worn off and it's being held together by duct tape) just one week ago,

A tribute to God's faithfulness.

My Prayer (Your Arms) - #1

Lord, when I stand in the valley
And cannot remember what it is like up on that hill,
Give me the strength to make it through these trials,
Give me the strength to always do Your will.

And, Lord, when I think that You aren't speaking,
Help me to hear and answer Your call.
Help me to further Your cause,
Help me to give You my all.

Lord, help me fight
To do what is right
And when I think I cannot win,
Help me to find strength resting in Your arms again.

Lord, I keep following this pattern:
I eat, I sleep, I think, and I pray.
Help me to quiet down and listen,
Help me to hear what You say.

Lord, help me fight
To do what is right
And when I think I cannot win,
Help me to find strength resting in Your arms again.

Lord, I want my faith to be real.
Give me the power to listen to what I feel.
Break me of my will and replace it with Your own.
Carve a masterpiece out of this harsh, uneven stone.
Help me to live for You alone.

Lord, help me fight
To do what is right
And when I believe I cannot win,
Help me to find strength resting in Your arms again.
Help me to find strength resting in Your arms again.

Lead - #150

I'm not sure where this path will go,
I'm not sure I can walk this road,
I'm not sure I can bear this load,
But I'm sure I can't let it go.

I'm not sure where this gift will lead,
I'm not sure of Your plans for me,
I'm not sure because I can't see,
But my heart wants to follow Your lead.

Will You lead me?
Father, lead me.
Will You lead me, please?
I need You to lead.

I'm not sure what will come next,
I'm not sure what I think is best,
I'm not sure that I can do this,
But I'm sure it's all in Your hands.

I'm not sure where this gift will lead,
I'm not sure of Your plans for me,
I'm not sure because I can't see,
But I'm going to follow Your lead,

So please lead me,
Father, lead me.
Will You lead me?
Father, lead.
Will You lead me, please?
I need You to lead.

You've been faithful before,
You will be faithful now.
Your footsteps are sure,
You are my solid ground.

I'm ready to take
Another big step,
You have all my faith,
Let me reach for Your hand.

I'm not sure where this gift will lead,
I'm not sure of Your plans for me,
I'm not sure because I can't see,
But my heart will follow Your lead.

Will You lead me?
Will You lead me?
Will You lead me?
Will You lead?
Father,
Father,
Daddy,
Please
Will You lead?

No, they're not perfect,

Maybe not even good,

But I can look at these two songs and see that God has been so faithful.

He has been so incredibly faithful,

And He continues to be faithful,

For the most recent song I've written is not number one hundred fifty,

It is number one hundred fifty-one.

The bold, italicized words are the lyrics to two songs by Mary Schieferstein - "My Prayer (Your Arms)", ©2010 Mary Schieferstein, and "Lead", ©2011 Mary Schieferstein. 

This post is the sixth in a multi-part series.  The other posts can be read via the links below.
     Part 1 - #150
     Part 2 - When I Was Little . . .
     Part 3 - Favorite Artists and Favorite Instruments
     Part 4 - . . . And Then it Happened
     Part 5 - The Way I Was Made
     Part 6 - Faithful from Beginning to End

 

The Way I Was Made

Less than a year after I'd started writing again

I read a post written for people like me,

People trying,

Struggling,

Searching to understand,

Asking,

"Where am I supposed to take this?".

It was written by Christa Wells,

An incredible singer-songwriter

Whose music I found through my favorite artist's website.

The post was entitled "To the young writer . . .",

And that's exactly what it was,

Advice to the young songwriter,

Advice that helped me to see that I do have something to contribute,

Something unique to me that no one else could offer,

And even if no one recognizes my efforts,

Even if no one likes my music,

I can still write and sing to the only One whose opinion really matters.

There was one bit of advice that required a little action on my part,

Advice someone else had given the writer when she was younger:

"If you're not sure this is what you're meant to do, try NOT doing it.  See if you can."

I was riding with some friends after an evening church service and we were talking,

They were asking about some of my future plans,

I included that challenge in them -

To not write,

To see if I was capable of not writing.

After all, I'd been perfectly capable before,

Would I be now?

I said, though, that I wasn't going to do it yet.

I was working on a song based on a sermon series going on at the church we'd just left,

A series about the life of Joseph.

I wanted to tell his story the way I tell so many of my own -

With words

And music.

One of the friends I was with said something I hadn't even considered,

That this, in itself, was my answer.

Still, I wanted to take the challenge,

To try to stop,

Really try to stop.

I finished the song several weeks later,

Decided to start,

Start trying to stop,

Trying to see if this is what I was meant to do.

The funny thing about trying to stop is it makes me want to write more.

Still, I managed to not write . . .

For a day, almost two.

Then, of course, someone said something

And the gears in my head started turning,

Twisting together phrases,

Rhymes,

Melodies.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't stop.

Still, something in me wondered,

"What if I'd tried harder?

Could I have done it if I'd just tried harder?"

I was sitting at a table,

"Finishing" the song I was working on,

("Finishing" because I don't think any of them are ever really finished.)

When a friend came up to me,

The same one who had been in the car when I told of my intentions to stop,

The same one who had said I already had my answer.

He spoke of the song just played,

Said I could write lyrics as good as those.

I took it as a major compliment,

Though I didn't think it was the best song I'd ever heard

Or that the song of mine I had shown him was the best I'd ever written.

I told him that, at that very moment, I was failing,

Failing to not write,

Unable to stop.

He offered a few more words of encouragement,

But then had to leave,

To get back to the ever-waiting pile of work.

The rest of that week, someone encouraged me in my writing,

In my music,

Every

Single

Day.

It was incredible.

My friends often encourage me,

But it's more like once a month,

Once every other week at most.

I never get encouraged every single day.

After all that happened,

It seemed like God was trying to use the experience to tell me something,

Use the inability to stop and the consistent encouragement to say, "No.

No, you couldn't have stopped if you'd tried harder.

You couldn't have stopped because I made you this way,

I made you to write.

I don't want you to stop writing,

I want you to keep writing,

To use the gift I've given you.

Don't stop."

Nothing that happened that week answered all of my questions.

I still don't know where He wants me to take this,

How far He wants me to go . . .

Or try to go.

There is one thing I learned, though.

I'm not supposed to stop.

I'm supposed to keep writing.

Music is a part of me,

A part of who I am.

I can't stop writing any more than I could cut out a piece of my heart.

It's the way I was made.


This post is the fifth in a multi-part series.  The other posts can be read via the links below.
     Part 1 - #150
     Part 2 - When I Was Little . . .
     Part 3 - Favorite Artists and Favorite Instruments
     Part 4 - . . . And Then it Happened
     Part 5 - The Way I Was Made
     Part 6 - Faithful from Beginning to End

 

. . . And Then it Happened

Months after I started playing the piano again, I was driving home after a choir practice,

Thinking about random things,

Something I do quite frequently.

Somehow, what I was thinking of led me to twist words together,

Words with melodies.

Before long, I had an entire refrain in my head . . .

In four-part harmony.

(Did I mention this was after a choir practice?  Yeah.  I don't know if it was possible for me to think in anything other than four-part harmony at that point.)

When I got home,

I got out an old composition book,

Opened it to a blank page,

Wrote out the refrain . . .

And the rest of the song.

Before long, I'd worked out an accompaniment, too,

Although it was difficult to play on my dad's old keyboard -

Apparently one of the first ever created -

With tiny keys not even big enough for my fingers

And a piano sound almost identical to the electric organ sound.

Still, I had an accompaniment,

And it all happened that one Tuesday night.

The next day,

Seriously, the very next day,

One of the teachers at school asked my class if anyone wanted to do anything at the weekly assembly the next Tuesday

And I knew.

I knew it was something I needed to do,

To play my song less than a week after it was written,

And the timing was absolutely perfect.

I went to see her later that day,

Volunteered to help,

Though I warned her that it was a song I'd only just started working on.

She said that was fine,

That I could play it for her on Friday.

Friday ended up being a snow day.

I played it for her Monday,

The day before I was supposed to perform,

On an old piano in one of the classrooms,

An old, out-of-tune piano.

It wasn't incredible.

Still, she liked it,

Said I had a beautiful voice

And that I could play it at the assembly the next day.

I left class early to go down and get set up.

I had been practicing the accompaniment on the piano in study hall,

Working hard because I was nervous,

Afraid I would screw something up,

Especially the ending.

I was still nervous, sitting there,

Waiting.

Then it was my turn.

I went up

And played

And sang.

It wasn't perfect,

But it wasn't bad, either.

One of the people in my school told me later that she'd liked it,

Asked if I wrote it myself.

I said yes, I had.

It was the first time I'd ever performed one of my songs,

The first time in a long time I'd played the piano in public,

But it went pretty well,

And it was just incredible how it all came together.

For some reason,

I don't know why,

I kept writing after that.

It wasn't just one song every now and then,

It was a song almost every day,

Though I still didn't think they were that good,

My best friends read them for me and encouraged me.

I was truly blessed.

After that, I started asking God what He wanted me to do,

What the reason was that He'd brought this back into my life,

How far He wanted me to take this.

I haven't gotten a complete answer yet,

Although I've gone past a few road signs,

One of which was very, very big,

But I want to be sure that I listen,

That I seek,

So I take this where He wants me to,

Not where my still-overactive imagination wants me to.

Well, more about that tomorrow.


The words visible in the pictures are from the song "My Prayer (Your Arms)", written and performed by Mary Schieferstein, ©2010 Mary Schieferstein.


This post is the fourth in a multi-part series.  The other posts can be read via the links below.
     Part 1 - #150
     Part 2 - When I Was Little . . .
     Part 3 - Favorite Artists and Favorite Instruments
     Part 4 - . . . And Then it Happened
     Part 5 - The Way I Was Made
     Part 6 - Faithful from Beginning to End

  

Favorite Artists and Favorite Instruments

Though I didn't write more than the occasional song (none of which were very good) for years, I still listened to a lot of music.

One morning, I heard a song on the radio.

I thought it was really good, creative, interesting, true . . .

By some artist I'd never heard of (must have been new).

I didn't have the time to look her up then, though,

And I forgot about it when I did have time

Until I heard another one of her songs,

Thought, again, that it was really good,

Heard the name, remembered the other song,

Then finally remembered to look her up.

Turns out, she wasn't a new artist at all.

The songs I'd heard were from her seventh album.

I asked Dad to get the album for me,

Listened to it,

Then listened to it again

And again

And again.

Something kept drawing me toward that album.

I found two more of her CDs in a 2-disc set at the Christian bookstore,

Then listened to those over and over again as well.

I couldn't stop listening to her music,

Watching and reading everything that I could get my hands on.

It wasn't long before she'd earned the title of "favorite artist",

A title I had never before matched with any one person or group.

Her music just inspired me.

Months later, I was hanging around at my church,

Waiting for something or another, I don't remember what,

And I went to find a piano.

This was a big deal because my grandma taught me to play the piano when I was little . . .

And I hated it.

I hated having to practice,

Hated trying to read the bass clef,

Hated trying to recreate the sheet music using the instrument.

When I sat at the piano bench that day, it was the first time I had willingly done so in years . . .

Just to play.

I sat and picked out melodies by ear,

Figured out chords for the left hand,

Until I could play "He's Always Been Faithful".

I started playing during study hall

Because I had nothing better to do,

Or because I preferred playing to doing math homework.

I learned many more songs,

Most of which I've forgotten by now

Because the accompaniments I came up with were boring,

Repetetive.

Still, I could play.

To this day, I prefer my keyboard to my guitar.

I know it better,

I can be more creative with it,

It's more fun to sit down at and just play.

I often wish I had an acoustic piano, though,

Because it has a more beautiful sound,

More real.

It's a real treat for me to sit down and play an acoustic.

To this day, Sara Groves is my favorite artist.

I have a stack of her CDs in my bathroom.

I listen to them almost every night.

I honestly believe that her music,

Which helped inspire me to start playing the piano again,

Is a big part of the reason I am writing music now.

Well, that's another chapter in the story.

More to come tomorrow.


The songs "When the Saints", "It Might Be Hope", and "He's Always Been Faithful" are written and performed by Sara Groves.  The albums Tell Me What You Know, Add to the Beauty, and Conversations are also by Sara Groves.  Many, many, many thanks to this incredible artist for her beautiful music and continued inspiration.


This post is the third in a multi-part series.  The other posts can be read via the links below.
     Part 1 - #150
     Part 2 - When I Was Little . . .
     Part 3 - Favorite Artists and Favorite Instruments
     Part 4 - . . . And Then it Happened
     Part 5 - The Way I Was Made
     Part 6 - Faithful from Beginning to End

 

When I Was Little . . .

I promised to tell how this all started,

How I got into writing music,

How I came to enjoy making music so much,

How it became such a part of me that I couldn't stop.

The story begins when I was much younger.

I had a friend.

She was just learning to play the clarinet in her school's band.

I had been taking flute lessons.

We both liked to sing.

The two of us decided that our musical knowledge qualified us to start a band.

Yes, a band -

The kind we listened to on the radio,

Like ZOEgirl, Steven Curtis Chapman, and Nichole Nordeman -

The two of us, with a flute and a clarinet.

Yeah.

It was nice to have such an incredibly active imagination.

Anyway, I figured that if we were going to start a band, someone would have to write some music.

After all, there are copyright laws that would prevent us from singing someone else's music.

I had written poetry before.

In fact, I used to quite enjoy writing poetry.

I figured I would write the music,

So, I sat down at a computer keyboard and typed.

I probably ended up writing about twenty-plus songs,

Lyrics neatly typed,

Melodies stored in my brain, retrieved by reading the lyrics.

Both had come together,

I only needed the one to remember the other.

I was pretty excited to have written all those songs,

So I printed out the lyrics and started singing them to whoever would listen.

After a while, I got the impression that people didn't really like my songs.

Well, maybe they liked them a little, but not too much.

After all, I was just a little kid,

Standing around singing words from a sheet of paper,

A capella,

Interrupting whatever it was they had been doing before I came along.

So I stopped writing.

Yes, that's right.

I stopped.

I didn't think anyone thought my music was any good,

I started to agree with them,

And I stopped.

Somewhere, there is still a file with all of my old lyrics,

Everything I wrote before I stopped.

I don't even know where it is,

Don't remember most of what I wrote.

Every now and then, however,

One of those songs will pop into my head . . .

     Yesterday was a spot on the windshield,
     Yesterday was a bump on the road, . . .

Maybe someday I'll find that file,

Read all of those songs again.

Someday.

Not today.

Well, that's how the story begins,

How I got into writing music.

Unfortunately, I can't tell the whole story in one day.

I wouldn't have anything to write about the rest of the week.

(Well, I'm sure I'd find something.  Still, it's more fun this way.)

So there will be more to come,

Tomorrow.




This post is the second in a multi-part series.  The other posts can be read via the links below.
     Part 1 - #150
     Part 2 - When I Was Little . . .
     Part 3 - Favorite Artists and Favorite Instruments
     Part 4 - . . . And Then it Happened
     Part 5 - The Way I Was Made 
     Part 6 - Faithful from Beginning to End


 

#150

I was up late last night,

Scratching lines on formerly blank pages,

Pressing keys and humming notes.

It started as it frequently does,

I was doing something else,

Then I started to think

And they started to come,

Words and notes,

Lyrics and melodies.

I finished, then went to find my composition book,

Sat for several minutes putting the phrases onto paper.

Then, of course, I couldn't help sitting at my keyboard,

Playing chords, trying to improvise on them,

Writing them down so I would not forget.

Then I finally went to bed . . . at about 1 A.M.

It'd been about a month again,

I had been having my doubts again,

Then I read that book

And it got me thinking,

Feeling like I needed to write.

Then the words came,

Lyrics for #150,

The one hundred fiftieth song I've written since I started writing again,

Almost as easy as breathing.

Speaking of which, this little landmark means it's time for me to tell a little more,

Share how this all started . . .

Next week.




This post is the first in a multi-part series.  The other posts can be read via the links below.
     Part 1 - #150
     Part 2 - When I Was Little . . .
     Part 3 - Favorite Artists and Favorite Instruments
     Part 4 - . . . And Then it Happened
     Part 5 - The Way I Was Made
     Part 6 - Faithful from Beginning to End