Next up are some thoughts about song number four on my album Stay Awhile. Thanks for coming along on this story-telling journey with me! Don't forget to listen to the song after you read this blog. :)
Keep singing your song,
~Tara
The Art of a Song: "You Love Me Anyhow"
I wrote the lyrics to this song after writing the melody at my piano and recording it in my voice memos. I had some of the words—the basics—but I decided to take my paper and pencil out to the park and sit by a stream and finish it. I’ve always loved to write outdoors. There's something about it that makes my creative mind thrive. Even as I jotted down this memory, I was sitting outdoors. It does get tough in Cleveland, though, once the weather starts to get cold. I’ve found myself out on my porch wearing gloves and typing, just to clear a case of writer’s block. I've often wondered if I could have taken my family's grand piano outside, what things could I have written…?
Anyway, I think when you write and you wait and you hear these songs play over in your head complete with orchestral-type arrangements, and all you can personally do at the time is play them at your piano (or listen to them on your voice memos through your phone speakers—and this was a flip phone at the time, mind you), there’s a certain emotion attached to hearing them brought to life by musicians and then hearing the recording played back to you. I assume it’s similar to the way architects feel as they draw up plans for a building, make a model, and get to see the real thing finally built up brick by brick and then walk through it, surrounded by what was once only a figment of their imagination. It’s an amazing feeling to have your plans come to fruition.
For many years, I waited for this feeling, oftentimes wondering if it would ever happen at all. I played piano on this one, and then when we recorded the cello parts for this, I had a horrible ear infection and could only hear out of one ear. I had that ear peeled to every note my friend was playing, though, and, when the parts were laid down, Jim played back the song with just my vocals and the cello parts—and everything else muted for the time being. It was such a beautiful experience to hear with my ears (or ear, rather) what I’d heard in my head years ago, when I had written the song, that my eyes filled with tears.
A vision realized is a marvelous feeling—a feeling of gratitude and completion washed over me that I'll never forget. It’s the kind of thing that keeps you going and striving forward again and again. Wrapped up in that emotion was the kindness of the amazing musicians, who played on each of my songs and encouraged me, and all of the seemingly disjointed pieces and encounters that had led to this moment. And, most of all, how God had worked out the timing and preparation through the long years of waiting, bringing it all together, making it all make sense.
That's the feeling I hope each of you gets to experience as you work toward your new goals this year or toward goals that have taken, or will take, years to culminate into what your heart has been hearing. Keep moving, one step at a time, and you'll get there. And it will be worth all of the striving and the waiting. Just don't forget to savor the moment when you get there—drink in every detail with gratitude so that it will be with you always.