Girard Project out April 20th!

It's been quite an adventure since my I, my sister and my two nieces sang together at Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa over a year ago. I was scheduled to sing at their Sunday night service, and decided to surprise my dad by bringing them out to sing one of his most loved songs, "Sometimes Alleluia". It was a special moment that none of us will forget as voices and harmonies blended together in a way that only happens when it's family. What started as a simple tribute performance has morphed into a full length worship album filled with original songs and old hymns. We even recorded our version of "Sometimes Alleluia" as that is the song that started it all. It's been a tremendous endeavor as anyone who has ever worked with family knows. At times, the sweetness of the Holy Spirit was so present in the studio that it brought tears to my eyes and goosebumps to my skin. At other times, we wondered if we would ever complete the project! (Imagine 5 creative females in the studio together hunched over a box of krispy kremes with no sleep and PMS.......)

Our group is called "Girard". We chose this name because it is our legacy. Our dad walked to the altar and gave his heart to Jesus at Calvary Chapel over 40 years ago. My mom and dad met and got married there, and my sister and I were dedicated by Pastor Chuck Smith at that same altar. Now Calvary Chapel is partnering with us to continue the legacy that our dad started so many years ago. I, along with my sister Kristin, my sister Nikki and my nieces Lauren and Kailyn make up the group Girard. I can't wait until the album is released on April 20th.

Girard will debut Good Friday at Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa, and will sing at their Easter Sunday morning service, held at the Verizon Amphitheater in Irvine, CA.

The Story Behind The Song: Plastic Guns

Download the song Plastic Guns, along with three other songs for free here

The story begins with a little boy sitting on the lawn wearing a cowboy costume. With an alcoholic father who died before he was five years old, that western ensemble was the only semblance he had of a real childhood. He spent his evenings immersed in the world of Roy Rogers and Howdy Doody. That little boy is my dad.

He set out on his own at sixteen years old to pursue a music career that landed him in the company of the Beach Boys, and garnered him a number one single called "Little Honda" with the surf group, The Hondells. His quick success in rock and roll ushered him into a life of sex, drugs and alcohol. Truth and love were not offered to him throughout his boyhood, so his life became about searching for those things wherever he could find them. In his early twenties, his spiritual quest became steadfast as hippies emerged and their common openness and desires united them. Eastern religion, traditional church and hallucinatory narcotics left him empty-handed of heart, and the search continued. With an open mind, he and some of his hippie friends decided to visit a little church in Southern California just to see if God could be found there. From the moment they walked in the door, they understood that He could.

My mom was raised in the Mojave desert, and spent most of her time outdoors. With a vast desert landscape for a backyard, she hung out with the Rackley boys, a rough and tumble group of brothers who loved to throw rocks. She never backed down from a dare, and her spunk and moxy has followed her through every stage of life. She went to college in Southern California, and went with some friends to a beach baptism offered by Calvary Chapel. A group called "Love Song" was playing, and my mom was introduced to the lead singer, who happened to be my dad.

I like to think of it as love at first sight, and I see my parents locking eyes from afar, and being magnetically drawn to each other like that scene from Twilight when Edward first walks into the school cafeteria in slow motion. In reality, the first time they met was not at the beach, but at an evening church service about a week before. One of my mom's friends was interested in my dad, and wanted to meet him. My mom and another friend went with her for moral support, and my dad ended up being interested in the the other friend. My mom was very brave to show her face that night, because she was not only horrifically sunburned, but had an allergic reaction to the herring that she ate earlier in the day. She showed up to church with a beet red face and lips swollen to three times their normal size. I can't really blame my dad for not noticing her. Well, I'm sure he noticed her, but not for the reasons that would play out in a good romantic movie. Nothing came of anything that night, and then they met a week later at the beach. After they were re-introduced, and my mom's swelling had gone down, they were inseparable from that moment on.

In the song, they meet at the beach, because "herring", "sunburn" and "swollen face" don't really roll off the tongue in a musically desirable way. I don't feel like this is very important, because this is a love song. It's the story of their lifelong love and commitment to each other. There were times in their marriage that I honestly thought they'd be better off without each other. There were other times I thought they would die without each other. At certain times, as with any marriage that lasts longer than a few years, no one would have faulted them for giving up. But they didn't give up. They have remained undyingly dedicated to each other through great hardship, good times and bad. They make me believe in love.

It's fun watching them now in their sixties. I love the way my mom still smiles at him with a wordless squeal when he makes her dinner. I love the way she playfully rolls her eyes at the sheer joy he experiences when he finds the perfect pair of black sweatpants, knowing full well that she would have suffocated with a suit and tie man. The fireside dance that I mention in the bridge of the song didn't actually happen the day they met. I put that line in there because I think that dance is how I see them now. Theirs is a story wrought with passion, difficulty and trial, and it's a story that has left a rich legacy for their children and grandchildren. It's a story that begs to be told. And so it has.

What Do Sheep Count When They Can't Sleep?

It's a common practice to count sheep when trying to fall asleep. I have never found this to be particularly useful. When I count sheep, it usually goes something like this: " One. Two. Three. Four. How many sheep will I have to count before I get tired? Five. Six. I am going to be so tired tomorrow. Six. Wait, did I already count six? Seven. Eight. Close your eyes. Rrrrrrg....I am closing them too tight. I'm gonna get wrinkles. I like wrinkles. Nine. I don't really want wrinkles, but I do think they are kind of cool. Scars. Scars are cool. Ten. I think that sheep is laughing at me. Tomorrow is gonna be the worst day ever if I don't get some sleep. Eleven. Did I forget to take my vitamins today? I need to read my Bible more. Did I turn off the stove? I wonder if it hurts to get a tattoo. What number was I on? Uggg.....One".

Although stereotyped as stupid animals, sheep are actually quite interesting. They are not very good fighters but they have great instincts, and sharp senses. They have been proven to be quite clever when faced with hunger. In Great Britain villagers watched as a herd of sheep taught themselves to roll across 8 feet of hoof-proof metal cattle grids in order to raid the local gardens. I would have given anything to see that. When a predator invades their dwelling, sheep will run away as fast as they can. Then they will regroup and turn to face the brute like a big, united cotton ball of vengeance. I think that qualifies them as brave. It takes courage to face a hungry, fang-toothed beast with nothing but excellent hearing and an amazing tolerance for pain. It's true that a sheep will follow another sheep off a cliff but nobody's perfect.

People are compared to sheep in the Bible.

In Psalm 23, God is referred to as our shepherd. Jesus refers to himself as such in John 10:11 which says, "I am the good shepherd. I know my own sheep, and they know me." He talks about how he sacrifices His life for His sheep because they are His, and He has a vested interest. He compares that mentality with one of a hired hand. If a wolf attacked, the hired hand would run away. The paid worker is just doing it for the money, so he has no vested interest. Jesus, on the other hand said that he would give His very life for the sheep in His care. Later in His life, He did just that.

Sometimes when I can't sleep, I think about my Shepherd.

I ponder what it is that a shepherd does, and in turn, what Jesus does for me. He walks with me everywhere I go. He makes sure I have food and water. He stays awake when I sleep to guarantee that I will be safe. He fights off anything that tries to hurt me. When I get lost, He comes and finds me and brings me home. This does not make me weak and helpless. I look at it like this: I am identified with Jesus, and predators don't mess with Him, so therefore, they don't mess with me. Of course I realize that life is abundantly more complicated than I am describing it, but this simplicity brings me a great amount of peace when I am trying to fall asleep at night.

Du Hebing, a poor sheep farmer had a sheepdog who died unexpectedly. He couldn't afford another one and was faced with the problem of herding his sheep without any help. He discovered that if he held up a large poster of a snarling wolf, the sheep would keep walking because they didn't want to go near it. Problem solved. I admit that sheep are not the smartest animals in the barn, but neither are people sometimes.

I am so glad I have a Shepherd. I am not on my own. I always have somewhere to call home, and someone waiting for me there. At the end of it all, when time surrenders to eternity, we have a great promise from the book of Revelation: "The lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd. He will lead them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes." That will be a good day to be a sheep.

In Heaven It Will Always Be October

There is a large tree outside of my kitchen window that I love to watch (and talk to, but don't tell anyone) when I drink coffee in the morning. Technically, it's my neighbor's tree, but I know it likes me better so I claim it as mine. I watch my tree throughout the seasons as it's leaves get thick and green in the spring, hang on for dear life in the summer and burn with color in the fall . I always think it looks darkly defiant in winter when it stands naked against ice, wind and freezing rain. It doesn't make much sense to me why trees lose their leaves in the coldest months, when logic would suggest that they could use a good winter coat. I wonder if they get hot in the summer when they are covered in bulky leaves and the sticky heat lays heavy on them. Does my tree get annoyed by birds and the wrought-iron bird feeder my neighbor hung on it's branches? Does it itch when bugs crawl up it's trunk and get bored just standing there all the time? Would it like some hot cocoa? It's good to know there will be trees in heaven.

When I was a little girl I didn't really want to go to heaven.

I imagined I would be really bored when the only thing there are these golden streets and trees of life and stuff. I mean the sea is made of glass, so what fun is that? I can't even go in the water! Of course, I didn't want to go to hell either, so I figured boredom was better than worms eating my flesh and fire burning me forever. (I had a second grade teacher who taught about hell in great detail, and I would wake up with nightmares that I was being sauteed in a frying pan.) Yep, definitely going with boredom.

My discontent with the idea of heaven turned into absolute terror at the concept of living forever.

Our minds can only comprehend time with a beginning and an end, so I couldn't wrap my 12 year old sensibility around such an abstract notion. Eternity was like a sinister monster in the closet that lingered with spine-chilling tenacity. Unlike imaginary monsters, this monster was eventually coming for me whether I liked it or not. I began to have panic attacks and remember pacing around my room in a cold sweat just begging Jesus to help me not think about it. He always did, but the looming fear of the next panic session haunted much of my young life. I never confessed my anxiety to anyone because the fear of even mentioning it would surely trigger another episode. Whenever a Pastor would teach about heaven, hell, the afterlife, the rapture or any other related subjects, I taught myself to escape in my mind to somewhere else.....somewhere finite. I'd sneak away to a nice place where things were sensible enough to have a beginning and an end.

I remember being in youth group and the speaker was telling us how heaven would be one, long worship service. I'm sure that in his mind he meant this to be a comfort, but it seriously made me reconsider worms, fire and eternal darkness. Somewhere hidden in my awareness I began to see heaven as a total drag.

As an adult, the weariness, heaviness, pain and loss of life became something tangible to me.

The realities of how incomplete life on earth is made me reconsider my opinions on the afterlife. Life on earth is all about need. We all have so much need. This is why we sleep, eat, drink, get married, have babies and work. When we really ponder the perfection of heaven, it is a great joy to grasp the fact that in heaven there will be no need. Every eye will see and every ear will hear with flawless clarity. There will be no arthritis, cancer, birth defects or loss of any kind. We will have endless energy and strength, and will be reunited with loved ones who have gone before.

When I was an apprehensive youngster distressed by incomprehensible concepts, God gave me a dream.

I truly believe the dream was from God because of the peace that accompanied it. My image of heaven was about to change. What I once saw as a murky grayed-out watercolor, was one night away from becoming a vivid portrait, rich with radiant color and light. The warmth and vibrancy of the dream was unlike anything I had ever envisioned. I was in an ice cream parlor and Jesus was the waiter. He was wearing a white and red striped shirt, black pants held up with suspenders and a black bow-tie. His face literally shined with delight, and His cheeks were flushed with a ruddy glow. The depth and warmth of the yellow-hued light matched the earnest joy that saturated the entire atmosphere. The restaurant was overflowing with people and yet Jesus could give each one the same constant attention. When I was sitting at a golden table submerged in the ambience, I just understood. I asked Jesus, "Is this heaven?". I don't remember exactly what He said but it was something along the lines of, "Yes! And it's not anything like you pictured is it? I'm so glad you are finally here". He was right. Heaven was not about being alone. Heaven was not about forcing myself to lay eternally prostrate while feeling nothing more than lucky to be there. Heaven was about hanging out with Jesus and being surrounded with ice cream, games, tons of people, and more love than I ever knew could exist. I didn't even want the ice cream. I just wanted to sit with Jesus.

So what does a tree have to do with heaven?

As I have grown older, visions of ice-cream parlors, Saturday morning cartoons, roller skates and carousels have faded into more grown up tastes. The emotions that were summoned by these simplicities are now the same feelings that whisper to me when I look at my tree. I am overwhelmed by the beauty of nature in October when the dirt is always just a little muddy and the world becomes shadowy and rustic. The air is colder, the sun is kinder, and coffee just tastes so much better. I no longer wish for heaven to be an ice cream parlor. The Bible describes heaven as a great city with a river flowing from the throne of God and down the main street. On either side of the street are fruit trees. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally into the city thing as well. I can't wait to see what that will be like. I imagine it like my time living in New York minus the rats and roaches.

It's midnight and I just walked outside and saw a shooting star. Score another point for October.

Big Announcement!

I've been very busy putting the finishing touches on my second solo release, Plastic Guns. We are very close to the finish line on this one! Originally I had scheduled a December release date, and it's looking like we are going to have to push that back to January. There is good news, however! The 4 songs I'm giving as a free download are going to mix next week. That means that they will be up by the end of the month!

Now for the big announcement! The reason it's taken so long is actually good news in and of itself. I have been working on a project with my sisters and my two nieces, and it has commanded almost all of my musical attention.

Back in June, my sister Kristin, and her two daughters Lauren and Kailyn surprised my dad by singing one of his old songs together at Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa. It was something we kind of decided at the last minute and threw together, but everyone agreed there was something very special about it. Every one of us has been to hell and back, and now we want to just worship God. There is nothing for us to sing about outside of HIS grace, HIS power and HIS perfect love. You can watch the video here. The Pastor, Chuck Smith was very moved by the performance, and said to my dad, "We've got to get them in the studio". That has grown into more serious talks of recording an album, and very recently, those talks have become reality! Calvary Chapel is partnering with us on this, and I am so excited about it.

I had plans for my next album (after Plastic Guns) to be a live worship album, and have been writing many songs with that project in mind. As usual, God had other plans and I have come to realize that those songs were perfect for this new venture. Then I asked my sister Kristin, a worship leader, if she had written any songs, and it turns out she had a few songs to play for me. We got together, and HELLO! ( I usually have more articulate words to describe an encounter, but HELLO! is pretty much the only way to describe how blown away I was by her songs.) Then we wrote a few songs together, and it became very obvious that this is something that is God breathed. In a way, I feel like THIS is what God has been preparing me for my whole life, and I don't say that lightly.

We have been keeping things hush hush, because we weren't sure how it was going to work or if it was even going to happen at all, but as I post this, I'm on my way to the studio where the recording is well under way. I will be tweeting our progress, so stay tuned! We still don't have a name for the group. Any suggestions?

Don't Throw The Pulpit Out With The Baptismal Water

That day was a day that I will never forget. That day was my day. I was fourteen, and that day, I won. I didn't win a game, but I won the most coveted and exclusive honor that could be earned at Jr. High church summer camp. I was crowned, "Best Christian". (It was probably worded something like "Best Christian Example", but everyone knew what it meant.) Along with the honor came special privileges. I was allowed to cut to the front of the lunch line, and was given a prize. (For some reason, I'm remembering a box of cereal, but that can't be right, can it?) Immediately, I developed a crush on my male counterpart who won the award for the boys. After all, we were the only two who understood how lonely is was at the top. As an adult, I wonder what on earth the camp leaders were thinking! This honor not only came with privileges and cereal, but it came with an internal struggle with pride like I had never dealt with before. My hands once raised in sincerity, were now raised because I was "The Best Christian", and I had better set a good example. I had been branded. Now I better not walk down to the altar because they might wonder what secret sin I was hiding, and I would be stripped of my status like that Miss America who posed for playboy. This was not said to me out loud, but it was just something I felt. That same summer, a male camp counselor told me I had a sexy voice, so I realize that the leaders were not perfect either. I should have turned to him and said, "That's 'Best Christian' sexy voice to you, mister!"

Many people in my generation grew up in a church that emphasized works over faith, and self-focus over Jesus-focus.

I think many of us felt that our Christianity was measured by how high we raised our hands, and how good we were at not sinning. This created a generation of guilt-ridden private sinners who felt separated from Jesus every time we made a mistake. I never drank, I never did drugs, and I never even kissed a boy until I was 22. For "Best Christians" like me, our struggles went deeply inward, and became profoundly secret. Throughout my years, there were many thoughtful and caring youth pastors and friends who encouraged me, believed in me, and influenced my life in a serious way. I want to make it clear that this is not to be mistakenly read as a list of everything the church has done wrong. I believe in the church. The church is called the Bride of Christ, and I am cheering her on. This is simply my assessment of how we got where we are today.

Some people in my generation think it's cute to sarcastically make fun of how irrelevant the church can be.

It is the worst form of piousness to mock the shortcomings of the church with a sharp wit, in some kind of attempt to demonstrate relevance. That kind of relevance is shallow and false, and the blanket of hypocrisy that it's wrapped in is the most irrelevant thing I can think of. It's easy to pick the church apart thread by thread, while the garment of one's own heart lays threadbare and moth eaten. This is self-righteousness at it's finest.

Many people in my generation have walked away from the church.

Somehow I can't say that I blame them, but I have not chosen to do this. Although there are deep flaws, the search for truth and reconciliation is an endless road pervaded with loneliness and deficiency. Jesus came for the lonely. Jesus came for the deficient. Jesus came for the broken, the weird, and the lost. He was inexhaustible in the patience He displayed toward His disciples, and He's been infinite in His patience toward me. If we all walk away, we cripple the Bride that He loves so much, and leave her weak and ineffective.

So I had it wrong.

On one of the last days of camp, I learned that "Best Christian" boy had brought a water balloon launcher in his suitcase. I was invited to hide out with him and one of his friends in the woods that bordered the staff cabin. Once out of sight, we began dousing every adult who walked by until the only smart one pinpointed our location. We were caught. "Best Christian" boy told me to run. "I'll take the rap. Just get out of here!", he whispered, and I ran like the wind. After a stern talking to, he was not stripped of his title. He still got to cut the lunch line, and even kept his cereal.

It took me years to shake off the "Best Christian" title, a label that haunted my teen years and early twenties. I won the accolade a total of three times, and as a senior in high school, I had to pass the crown to Erika Koss. I think if there is going to be a "Best Christian" award, the winner should have to clean the toilets and go last in the lunch line. They should have to polish everyone's shoes, and should not, under any circumstances, get any cereal. But then no one would want the award. Problem solved.

When Jesus was hanging out with prostitutes, befriending crooked businessmen and kicking over the temple tables, I wonder if He would have won "Best Christian Attitude". Probably not. In youth group, he would most likely be sitting in the back row getting to know the kids who's parents made them come. I am sure of this: He would most definitely go last in the lunch line, and would not make fun of well-meaning church goers who had the misfortune of having their house of worship advertised with an nerdy sign. Titus 3:2 says, "Remind them (believers) ......to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people". Jesus loves the nerdy sign people too.

I found this at my mom's house the other day:

"Apples Make Me Poop", And Other Life Lessons From 3 Year Olds

Matthew, my 10 year old nephew grabbed a peach from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table before going outside to play with his friends. While heading out the door, he got distracted and ran straight into the half open door, and received a powerful smack in the head. Everyone responds to pain differently. Some people cry, some get mad, and some just stand there stunned. Matthew is a sweet boy, who is a born comedian, and normally very even tempered. He usually shakes off injury with a "tough guy" shrug, and it is rare to see him indulge in a visible reaction. He must have been having a bad day or had something else on his mind, because this time he reacted by channeling all his emotion into the peach itself. He felt the kind of irritation that starts in your toes, and shoots up your body like an electrical current. This all happened in a fraction of a second and before he could process the incident, he squished the peach he was holding, and reduced it to juice, pulp and runny slush. He then looked at it and screamed, "STUPID PEACH!", and threw the peach as hard as he could into the front lawn. Now whenever I feel frustrated I shout "STUPID PEACH!", and it makes my family laugh. It makes other people wonder if I'm sane. I have squished a few proverbial peaches in my day, and it's usually not the "peach's" fault.

I love kids. Kids are straight forward, and are not easily embarrassed by things that would mortify an adult. They have unhindered imaginations, and are pretty darn smart too. I have learned many things about human nature from children, and here are some of them:

1. Kids lie.

My dad is the most practical person I have ever known. He does not care how he looks if what he is wearing will increase productivity and comfort. Much to the chagrin of my mother, it is not unusual to see him walking around the house in a t-shirt, boxer shorts, and headphones. The newest addition to his wardrobe is a jewelers helmet that has a magnifying visor in the front, and a headlight on the top. He is often seen in this get up while carrying a grabber arm and wearing a snuggie. The grandkids were in Nashville for a visit, and one in particular was seen playing with the grabber arm. After the kids went home my dad called and said, "Hey, I can't find the grabber thingy. Did you guys see it?", "Nope", was the universal response. A couple of weeks later, my dad found his beloved grabber arm shoved under the bed, broken in two places. Looks like someone was either hiding evidence or a magical creature needed to grab something, broke it, and hid it under the bed to cover it's tracks.

2. Kids are brutally honest when you'd rather they weren't.

When my friend served his son his lunch, his son said, "I wish I didn't have a tongue so I wouldn't have taste buds. I wish I didn't have taste buds so I wouldn't have to taste this."

When I was a little girl, I was waiting in the doctor's office with my mom. I pointed to the woman across from us and yelled, "Mommy, that lady has a mustache!". It was a very small waiting room and I'm sure it felt like the longest wait ever.

A little boy once asked me what anorexia is. I told him, "Well, sometimes when an adult feels like they are too fat, they won't eat enough but it's not healthy." He replied, "Oh ya, my mom does that!"

A friend of mine was in the process of potty training her daughter. When her daughter would "make a poopy in the potty" she would get a piece of candy. The daughter was telling someone about her reward and mused, "Daddy must get LOTS of candy!"

3. Kids ask questions that we have no idea how to answer.

Another friend of mine has a very thoughtful son. One night at bedtime, he asked, "Daddy, praying is like talking to a wall. How can Jesus hear me when he doesn't even live on this planet?".

4. Kids show off.

Four brothers were staying with their grandparents for a short time. While sitting at the dinner table, each of the boys said, "Grandpa, wanna feel my muscles?". Grandpa would then compliment each boy in turn and tell them how big and strong they were. When it was the youngest boy's turn, he said, "Grandpa, wanna see my penis?"

5. Kids are pretty smart.

Joel, a three year old was sitting with his sister eating an apple. He turned to her with a deep, contemplative stare. He said "Apples make me poop" with absolute conviction.

Jesus once said, "Unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven." Maybe he meant we have to forget all we've learned and start over. Maybe he wants us to be more honest. Maybe he was hoping we would utilize our creativity and imagination instead of trying so hard to be like each other. Maybe he just wants us to be totally dependent on Him.

I wonder how much like children Adam and Eve must have been. They spent their lives discovering creation, playing, laughing and waiting to walk with God, until the bitter day when their human nature got the best of them. "Apples make me poop". Maybe if Eve would have applied this child like logic, none of us would be in this mess to begin with! Stupid Apple.