A few weeks ago, my friend Robyn, the multi-talented photographer, illustrator and florist behind Floral Footsteps (she also is an accomplished musician and somehow manages to control the world's most enthusiastic Spaniel), took some promotional shots for us while we were sound checking for Kings' Guest Service (see the post below).
These are some of my favourites:
Great work Robyn, makes us look like we know what we're doing - hopefully the sound will live up to that.
p.s. Robyn and I have planned a video for a song I'm writing which we can film in the summer. Watch this space!
... come and join us at a Guest Service my Church is doing. We'll be playing a song there, and will be joined by our friend Hazel, who'll play violin (oh yes) with us.
It's in the student's union at 7:30pm (until 9), more info here.
Hope you've all had lovely Christmases (a word I've never written down, which looks quite strange...) and are looking forward to good an exciting year!
For me the last few weeks were slightly strange, as my Dad and brother came to my (grown-up) house, and I didn't go back to my parents for Christmas only the second time ever. The reason for this, my mum's death, was the same reason that I wrote this next song. The song, called 'The Echo', is written from a place of great suffering, and begins with a cry of pain from man. The second half is written from God's point of view, and recognises that in all the mess of the world, we don't cry out alone. We cry out with God. And the order there is important. God's pain and anger at evil, suffering, and this world's brokenness, comes before, and is deeper than ours. In this, even the most heart-felt, gut-wrenching cry of pain from man, God has been there before, and our cries, they echo his. For me, this provides little relief, but great solace and comfort.
Oh Heaven don't you know, I wasn't built for this?
The holes in my skin, let the rain into my soul.
I float just beneath the surface of the sea.
And it would be, so easy just to sink.
Oh Heaven don't you know, I wasn't built for this?
The holes in my skin, let the rain into my soul.
I float just beneath the surface of the sea.
The shadow beneath, creeps frightfully close.
And it would be, so easy just to sink.
Without your arm around my waist.
'Son I know, and your tears,
Your tears they echo mine.
Son I know, and your cry:
'This can't be right'
Your cry it echoes mine.'
