New Record and a Party or I Am Different.

So, I've been playing in this band for a few years and we're finally (finally) releasing our record.  It comes out today.  October 14th.  It's easiest to find on iTunes, but you can probably find it at your local independent record store.  The record is called The Sleeping House.  We're having a party in East Nashville to celebrate it.  Dinner at 6:00, we play at 8:00.

October 14th stirs up a few emotions for me.  It is exactly two years ago that I met someone I thought I'd spend a lot of my years with.  It was exactly a year ago that I ran into that person after not speaking for about nine months.  Fast starts and fast endings.  I think we all know about those.

After "we" ended whatever we had, I went to Atlanta to record The Sleeping House.  It was a really, crazy dark time for me.  Secrets.  Fear.  Lies.  Mostly fear, though.  But, the head-space I was in created an amazing opportunity to channel all that into a record that I'm very proud of.  I think you'll hear the pain in the notes.  But, you'll also hear the undeniable hope in the lyrics.

Life is sometimes bleak.  I don't know how theologically correct that is, but it's a blog so I think I can be a little more honest than correct.  I imagine the River being muddy; the Green Pasture withered and brown; the Well having no bucket to reach its water.  But, my imagination runs wild, you know?

Life is, in fact, good.  Life is great.  My life (my masks, pretense, my struggles to appear to have it together) is not great.  It will never be great.  The bucket will never draw anything of worth from my heart.  But, it is this conclusion that makes me sleep easier in the hands of God.  It makes me want to walk dusty roads on a summer night, hand-in-hand, and alone with my most intimate Stranger.  It is in these moments that I learn that there is a God to be touched and drank and shared. 

Today, I celebrate the release of a new record, but I also celebrate two years, alive and beyond the lowest hell of my life (though, not low enough for the love of God to reach).  I still feel empty.  I still get sick to my stomach.  I still wonder what if?  I still grieve.  But, I couldn't imagine a life without grief.  Because, as someone once told me, the grief is a celebration.