A Letter & A Song
Dear friends & listeners,
I've recently found myself looking back at the January and February version of myself as if through the veil of childhood innocence. Oh, the things he didn't know. Blissfully unaware. Enjoy it while it lasts. Because March has truly changed the world, and that includes my world and your world.
One effect of this overnight upheaval is that a sort of social vacuum has been created where once there was normal, face-to-face, daily human contact. And like with any vacuum, a number of forces have rushed to fill it. The result is that, even more than usual, I feel as if my entire life is mediated through the Internet.
Sometimes, all this digital media leaves me feeling like a sack of potatoes with anxiety issues. But the upshot of it is that some people are doing some really cool stuff. Adverse circumstances have a way of sparking the best kind of creativity.
And part of my job is precisely to find the good stuff and share it—as content developer over at the Rabbit Room and as worship director for my church. So what follows in this email are some resources that have come from all that digital foraging in the past few weeks. I hope you find it to be nourishing, and not just more noise.
Quarantune #1: "No One Told Me"
I wrote this song two Decembers ago at 9pm on a Tuesday night. But I just posted it last night, because I think that's the Tuesday it was born for.
This is Quarantune #1. Stay tuned in the upcoming weeks for some more quarantunes.
The Second Muse, Season Two: Sara Groves & Brown Bannister
I had the great pleasure and honor of interviewing Sara Groves and Brown Bannister last October for my podcast, The Second Muse. That conversation was released just this morning to kick off a new season.
In it, we discuss the deceivingly difficult task of telling the truth in a record, the under-publicized connection between beauty and justice, and the magic of a well-written bridge.
More discussions with more of my very favorite songwriters will be released weekly—stay tuned if you'd like to listen in!
Rabbit Room Digital Care Package
A couple weeks ago, when social distancing rules first took effect, I got to put on my Rabbit Room Content Developer hat and spend some time on the rewarding task of compiling a list of all kinds of good content being shared by folks in the Rabbit Room community—from livestreamed story time to concerts to liturgies to online classes:
"All of us are familiar with that tired question, 'What use is art?' At times, it’s difficult to answer, and we’re hard-pressed to point to the tangible results of singing, storytelling, and mundane acts of creativity. And yet, when that question exits the realm of theory and enters the world of immediate experience, the answer becomes as simple as it is clear: art pushes against the darkness, fortifies the soul, and lightens our burdens. In times like these, it’s abundantly clear that art is no mere luxury."
St. Mary's Online Hymn Sing
One of the things I've missed the most during these isolated times—and realized how much I had previously taken for granted—is the weekly experience of singing together with my church family, hearing so many voices mingle together into one beautiful sound.
So this past Sunday, I teamed up with my friends Karin Simmons, Skye Peterson, and Becca Jordan for a livestreamed hymn sing on our church's Facebook page, complete with a little makeshift service order. It was nothing like the real thing, but it was an encouragement to hear their familiar voices singing such cozy and well-worn melodies.
The video is still up on Facebook, so feel free to watch and sing along. St. Mary's will continue to get creative with how we celebrate Holy Week, and you can join us on our Facebook & Instagram pages.
That's all I've got for you today. Each of these morsels I've shared are ongoing by nature—there will be more quarantunes, more Second Muse episodes, more Rabbit Room online events, and more hymns to sing in the coming weeks. I hope to share some of those highlights with you every so often, as this season of distancing continues indefinitely.
Most of all, I'm wishing you safety and peace, a chance to become reacquainted with your home turf, and the extraordinary and unlikely gift of hope. Find it wherever you can, in whomever you can. Don't stop laughing or singing.
Love,
Drew