Right now the internet is ablaze with talk about the evils of PIPA. And basically, I tend to side with the folks blasting it. From what I understand about it, which is admittedly not tons, it seems to be a bill that has some major potential to severely mess up the internet.  I love the internet. I don’t want my or any other government to get their greasy mitts on it and start controling it. One of the things I love most about the internet is the way it’s kind of like the modern day wild west. You can find anything you want there. Some of my songwriting friends think I’m crazy for not passionately throwing all of my support  behind anti piracy legislation that would place more restrictions on the internet. But the internet in it’s current form is so important to a songwriter like me. Especially a stay at home mom/songwriter. While it’s true that any successful writer or performer is going to have to do some touring and catch some planes to meet various important people, the internet has made it possible for me to do quite a few things that would never have been possible before. I can record something in my basement and release it to the world the very next day. Someone all the way across the nation can listen to it and love it within hours after the recording is made. I don’t have to wait till I have a whole album done and have copies pressed and in the trunk of my car, and then hope a fan might show up at the coffee house where I’m playing in a month or two. That stuff still has to be done, but it no longer is the only thing that can be done. I can put things up for sale right away. I can occasionally release things for free. I can shoot little videos, and my fans can post them on their facebook pages and pretty soon thousands of people have seen me perform, without me ever having to leave my home. As I understand it, under the PIPA plan, my kind fans would get the threat of 5 years jail time if they dared repost my video or shared a link to my new song.  That sounds like a bad idea. It kind of makes me think I might be better off with things the way they are.

Here’s another wonderful thing the internet has done for the music world, both for creators and consumers. A little thing called iTunes, and all of it’s copycats. You can now buy one song at a time. This seems like an obvious win for consumers. When I was a teenager, (brace yourself for a trip that is painfully far back in time here), if I loved a song I heard on the radio, I had a couple of choices. I could either camp out by my boom box with a tape in the player, and wait till the song came on again so that I could tape it from the radio, and have some irritating announcer’s voice on the beginning and end, or I could go to the store and buy the tape. You heard me. Tape. And I knew, like everyone knew back then, that once I paid my 12 dollars for this tape, if I was super lucky, there might be one other song on the tape that I’d like. Pretty dismal. Buying one song for one dollar would have been a dream come true for me. But as the years have gone by, it has gotten even better than that. The fact that people can choose to buy a song at a time has been something that has made entire albums so much better. That’s why I think this has helped artists and writers. We no longer have any reason to release a song that might be classified as “filler”. It is just not worth the time or money because it will no longer do us any good. We might as well wait and only record our very best work, so we can get every single dollar. Record companies hate this. But I think most music creators would admit that an entire industry improving their craft has to be a positive thing. I think so, anyway. So, hooray for the internet. As crazy as it gets, I honestly believe it does most singer-songwriters more good than harm. So does this mean that songwriters and pirates should all join hands and live in harmony? Not so fast.

Music fans and consumers, we need to sit down and have a little chat. Let me figure out a nice and not too heavy handed way to say this in a way that we can still be friends, and you won’t think I’m a total downer. (Most artists won’t bring this up with you for fear of this type of image.) But here’s the deal. Some of you are stealing stuff, and it’s hurting me and my friends. Dang. That was uglier than I wanted it to sound. But I don’t want the government to have to step in and mess up my internet, so I’m hoping you can just think this through and then start doing what you can on your own to help. You know I love you and believe in you.

As I have thought about it, it seems like there are a couple of main reasons people steal music, whatever way that might be; burning CD’s, finding ways around paying the dollar to download it, etc, etc. I’m not tech savvy enough to even know all the ways this happens. But here we go. Reasons why people do it.

#1. You had no idea that what you were doing was actually stealing. Here’s something that happens to me all the time. I am at a table signing CD’s, and a fan comes up to me and proudly tells me they love my music so much that they have burned copies for everyone they know. Or I will finish a performance and someone will come up to me and say, “Your music has been on my iPod for years, but I had no idea who the artist was! It’s so great to finally meet you and solve that mystery. Will you sign my notebook? I don’t own anything of yours, otherwise I’d have you sign a CD for me. I’m not buying anything tonight because I already have it all.”  I write a lot of inspirational music, and I think a lot of the unintentional piracy happens to people who work in this type of industry. People believe that inspirational thoughts are so lovely and helpful that certainly the artist would want to give it away to everyone for free. And really, a lot of us would be glad to give it away for free if we could afford it. But the reality is that most of us musicians are scraping the change out of our couches and making really big sacrifices in order to make that recording for you. Our families are making sacrifices. We put off vacations and badly needed new furniture and sometimes even some of the groceries we want, so we can afford to pay for musicians and studio time. We do it because we love it, and we love you.  All it takes for us and our loved ones to keep wanting to make these sacrifices is for the project to at the very least pay for itself. I honestly don’t personally know very many rich and famous songwriters. We want to keep giving you what you love, because we love making music. But we can’t do it if we can’t afford it.

I understand how it can get confusing with the religious stuff.  Some churches produce products that they make available to members for very cheap or free, just for the betterment of mankind. Some people don’t realize the difference between that, and  artists who are doing it all themselves and actually have to make the money back to feed their families. When in doubt, visit the artist’s website and write them a note. Ask them for permission if you want to burn multiple copies of something for a youth group. It may not be free, but you might get a discount. Most of all, the best thing you can do if you love something, is to buy it.

#2. Some people steal music because they want to stick it to “The Man”. You think those big record labels are evil. You think the big famous artists they produce are spoiled brats who make too much money. You’ll listen to the stuff they make, and you’ll put it on your computer, but they can’t make you pay. And the artists who aren’t rich or spoiled, they’d want you to be mean to the record labels. Right? You’ve heard that the artist only gets a tiny royalty when the label gets their millions.

It would take too long to point out the flaws in all of this. Mainly, let me say that no matter what you think of big record labels, stealing music eventually ends up hurting the people who make the music you love, and that ultimately hurts you. A big record label will not want to pick up the tab on another album with your favorite artist if no one is buying the current one. Pretty soon your selection of new music gets pretty small. Big labels only want to take chances on the artists who’s songs already get played 80 million times a day on the radio, and that wasn’t the stuff you loved the most. So there’s no way to get around it, if you want to keep being able to find the stuff you love, you have to buy the stuff.

As a side note, if you really hate what’s always on the radio and want to show the record labels who’s boss, consider something more productive, like supporting local music. You don’t have to wait for a big company to tell you what you should like.  Seek out amazing things that indie artists in your area are making. Listen to it. Buy it. Want to be a rebel AND a hero? Blog about your favorite indie music. Tell your friends all about it. Host a house concert.  You won’t be a pirate, but you might actually have more fun. Besides, that eye patch was annoying, wasn’t it?

So, maybe some of you are confused. Are you a pirate if you share a link I posted of my song on your facebook page? Is it stealing if you put a link on your website to the blog on my website? No way! I’d love it if you did those things. Now, if you want to upload one of my songs to YouTube with a video montage of Japanese anime or pictures of your cat, it’d be nice if you could send me a note and ask permission. At the very least, could you tell people who I am and provide a link to my website?

In general, we songwriters love for you to spread the word. We give things away on purpose sometimes so that the word can be spread. We love you for helping us in that way. But if you find yourself visiting bandcamp and streaming an album all day every day for free, even though that might be legal, consider how much good it could do the artist if you would buy it and download it to your computer. It might just shorten your wait for us to come out with something new that you’d love even more.

Wow, you still with me? Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. Go have a banana split. You deserve it.

Love,

Cherie.

It seems that many people close to me are facing dark struggles right now. Failed ambitions. Failed relationships. Family members facing drug addiction. Miscarriage. Serious illness. Terminal illness. In times like these, we pray for great big things. We pray for miracles. Healings. Changes of heart. Sometimes we pray that we’ll wake up and find it was all just a nightmare. And sometimes none of these things are an immediate part of God’s will. I can’t claim to have ever had a struggle as deep as some of the ones my loved ones are enduring right now. But whenever I’ve had to truly put my life in God’s hands, some of my prayers begin to change. I pray for smaller things. I pray for a future that can somehow look brighter than it does at that moment. Sometimes, I pray for a very immediate future to be brighter. I pray for an uninterrupted night of beautiful, peaceful dreams, followed by a beautiful sunlit morning. I pray it for myself. I pray it for the people I love.

Philippians 4:7 has long been a favorite scripture of mine. It inspired what is perhaps my most well known song, “It Passes All My Understanding”.  But just this past week I payed a little closer attention to the scriptures that come just before and after. Here’s the whole thing:

Philippians 4

6: Be careful for nothing; (Greek translation in the footnotes interprets this as “don’t be unduly concerned about anything”) but in prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.

7: And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

8: Finally, bretheren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are just , whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

I really love those scriptures. They tell me how I can begin to feel the peace I often seek. I translate all of this to mean: “Are you a serious worrier? Well, cut it out. Not so easy? Here’s what you do. Pray for what you want and need. Then set that aside and be thankful for the heaps of blessings you do, indeed currently have. Trust me, there are lots. And then, look for the good that’s in this world. Look at the simple miracles that happen everywhere around you. Beautiful butterflies. Wildflowers. The smile of a child. Virtue. Kindness. A perfect night of dreams. You’re going to start feeling better if you can do these things. We’ll get you from one moment to the next rather happily this way.”

Well, all of this turned out to be heavier than I intended today. But maybe lighter, too, in a way. Let me leave you with a sweet lullaby I wrote for my two daughters, and my son who is on the way in a few months. May it fill your mind with images that inspire sweet, sweet dreams.

Sweet, Sweet Dreams

I don’t consider myself a fashion icon. I’m a 37 year-old pregnant woman. Not exactly a supermodel. So you can take all of this with a grain of salt. (Or grain of cupcake?) But I have always cared about my clothing, and I’ve always tried to make unique, stylish choices. I love clothes, probably a little more than I should. I also consider it a priority to dress modestly. Especially because I have two daughters who look up to me, and I am now expecting a son, who will one day hang out with women who have to make wardrobe choices of their own.

Sometimes there aren’t enough stylish options for people who want to dress modestly. There are a couple of things we’ve all tried to do to fix that.

Some of us write letters. A few years back, some proactive teens from Mesa, Arizona wrote letters to Dillards about the prom dress choices they had. And Dillards listened. It was a big victory. And now at least in Arizona and Utah, you can go to Dillards and buy basically the same cute little cap sleeved prom dress in about any color you’d like. There’s not a mind blowing selection of styles, but the effort is much appreciated.

Some of us started clothing companies based on dressing modestly. One of my favorites is Downeast Basics. Another great one is Shabby Apple. And one of the very first ones that really made a huge impact was a company called Shade. Shade’s main product was a plain cap sleeved t-shirt that could be worn under anything that might be too low cut, or that might not have sleeves. That was the dream, anyway. Lots of companies have jumped into that game. ModBod. Half Tee. Apricot. The list goes on and on. You can now pretty easily find that t-shirt in any color imaginable. And it’s been a big help. It has also become the signature Utah Mormon look. For the most part, I’m okay with that. That glorious t-shirt continues to solve a host of wardrobe problems for me. But every once in a while, it bugs.

I really dislike it when someone goes out in a nice dress, maybe in a fabric with some sheen to it, and a really cute cut. But it is sleeveless or low cut, so the person throws a faded cotton cap sleeved T underneath. Some dresses just don’t work that way.  In fact, when the shirt is particularly over-washed and faded, to me it just starts looking like ratty underwear sticking out. Or sometimes no matter how well maintained the t-shirt might be, the sleeve style and/or fabric just won’t work with the dress. I realize that most people think their only other option is to buy one of the purple sparkly cap sleeved prom dresses from Dillards, which is not the most appealing concept to someone aged 25 and up. And most people in Utah just don’t care. Everyone does the t-shirt thing, so it has become accepted and normal. But every now and then someone not from Utah points out how it looks a little off, and I tend to agree. Maybe you can see here what I mean. (I mentioned before that I’m a 37 year old pregnant woman right? Also I’m standing in front of my husband’s equipment shop, which doesn’t help. But try to focus on the t-shirts.)

I’ve decided I want to suggest some new options. Whenever I can, I try to buy shirts with a similar cut to the cap sleeved T, but with nicer looking sleeves, to go with some of my dresses. They’re not easy to find. Most of the time cute sleeves also means ruffles on the bodice of the shirt, or otherwise bulky things that won’t work under a dress. There are sometimes some exceptions, like this one. But it still kind of has the gathery stuff on the sides, as you can see there in the picture.

This past month I decided to just sew a couple of things I could use, since the type of shirt I need is so hard to find. Here’s what I came up with. I just sewed some rows of lace and trim on the sleeves of some cap sleeved t’s I already had. I’m pretty psyched about how it turned out, for a first try:

Now, I don’t have what it takes to start a business right now, and I’m really not that great at sewing. So here’s my plea. People who own these modest clothing businesses, can you give us more options for ways to add sleeves to a dress? Can you make these shirts with cute, more dressy sleeve options? For some outfits, can you make us a few that are also in some nicer looking fabrics? Something with a bit of a sheen, like even rayon? Make it a full fledged line, so we can find them in all colors and styles of sleeves? And until then, folks who want to dress modestly: Can we try a little harder to find solutions that go with the whole outfit? Seek out those cute sleeves? Find a cute cardigan? (hint, there are some cute ones at Downeast Basics.) I know it is hard. Believe me I know. But I just want to prove to people everywhere that you really can look stylish and modest at the same time. Let’s give it a try. I want to hear from you about what you think about this.

In parting, let me say that I am anticipating some of the comments I will get back.

#1. “Those froofy sleeves are just too much. Too fancy shmancy. I want to stick with my plain t-shirts under my dresses.” To you I say, great. I’m not saying that we should all replace all of our plain t’s for fancier ones. Like I said before, I still love that style of t-shirt and wear it all the time. Maybe you spend most of your time in Utah, and most of your friends don’t care how it looks under a fancy dress, and most of all, you don’t care. That’s cool. Maybe it works with all the clothes you wear. And actually, some people do the casual t-shirt with fancy formal thing on purpose and it rocks. Maybe you’re going for a punk/vintage kind of look. My friend Meaghan Smith rocks that style. Doesn’t she look amazing? Style wise, honestly she can do no wrong. See Meaghan Smith. And after that, go to her official page here and check out her music, because she rocks. Honestly though, I think a lot of people think their cap sleeve+fancy dress outfits look that cool, when really they don’t. It’s a tricky thing to be able to pull off.

Possible comment #2. “For goodness sake, just ditch all the t-shirts and show your *&#$ shoulders and cleavage, for crying out loud!” I get it. We all make our own choices.

I’m just trying to suggest a few new ones.

Now if only I could find a way to stylishly add length to some dresses and skirts. Will I have to sew again?

Can’t wait to hear from you.

P.S. Want to know where I got the dresses I wore in the photo? A cool website called modcloth.com. In this case, the “mod” in the title isn’t short for modest. But there’s a ton of stuff on that site, and when it’s short/sleeveless I can usually adapt it somehow. The sheer number of options there makes it a site worth loving.

A few years ago I was invited to perform at a big convention for women. I can’t even remember which city we were in. But it must have been pretty far from home because a bunch of the participants were on the same planes, and we had a layover. It was on this layover that I first met a guy named Jason Wright. Jason F. Wright if you want to get all particular and use the formal author name. If you’re feeling a little starstruck right now and getting the urge to fire me an email to ask me a question, let me answer it for you right away. Yes, I mean the same Jason F. Wright who wrote the New York Times bestseller, “The Wednesday Letters.”  He was a scheduled speaker at this same event. I knew who he was but assumed he had no clue who I was. We all ended up chatting a little, and eventually he started talking about a new book he was writing. The book was about a man who writes a very important song. Jason was wishing he had an amazing song written by a real songwriter that he could somehow include with his book. He was brainstorming about how to make this happen. Hold a contest? Try to track down someone famous? I was tongue-tied for the next half hour or so, till I managed to slow him down while he was on his way to buy a sandwich, long enough to blurt out the words as casually and confidently as I could pretend, “Why don’t you just let me write your song?”

He thought it over for a day. The next night we were all at a restaurant, and he decided he’d let me give it a shot. He told me what he wanted the song to be about. When I got back to my room, I wrote most of  the song right away, on hotel stationery. The next morning on the planes, I kept working on it. I worked on it for another day once I got home, and then Joe helped me record a rough demo in our basement. Click here to hear how the final version turned out: Love Me If You Can .  The song was called “Love Me If You Can”, and I had my very talented friend Paul Jacobsen sing it, since the character in the book who writes the song is a man.  You can find out more about the book at www.recoveringcharles.com. The whole project was fun. But that’s not the wedding song.

A couple of years went by. Jason’s family and my family became very good friends. Jason lives in Virginia. Much to our delightful surprise, he and his friend Stephen Funk have still somehow, without planning it, managed to crash two birthday parties at my home. One for my daughter, Sydney, and one for Joe. Pretty soon we’re just going to start cutting the extra slices of cake before those guys even show up at our door. Joe and Jason occasionally send each other boxes of cereal. (Don’t ask why. I don’t have an answer.) Joe has dropped in at Jason’s home on some of his cross country travels for work. I’ve flown out there to speak and sing for the youth at Jason’s church. It’s been fun to see the sites of Woodstock, Virginia, which is where many of Jason’s stories take place. It’s been a treasure to get to know the beautiful and amazing Kodi, Jason’s wife. And I’ve been privileged to somehow get on Jason’s list of people he lets read some of the early drafts of his new novels. That is always a treat, since I was a fan of Jason’s before we ever even met.

A couple of weeks ago I got a note from Jason, asking me if I had a song about weddings, or if I knew anyone who did, so that he could use the song to help promote his new book, “The Wedding Letters.” It’s a sequel to “The Wednesday Letters.” Well, I told him to stand by. The first thing I did was have Joe help me record a ridiculous version of Billy Idol’s “White Wedding.” We mostly sent that to Jason to scare him. And if you somehow managed to hear how horrible it sounded, then I’d probably have to kill you, if it didn’t already make you die from how awesomely awful it was. But 24 hours later I managed to send him a demo for a real brand new song about weddings. It’s called, “Marry Me”.  My very talented friend Tyler Castleton played piano on the final recorded version, and through a stroke of luck he got the amazing and famous John Catching to play cello. You can hear it here on the trailer for Jason’s book: The Wedding Letters See if you can spot a wedding photo of Joe and me. Then see if you can spot a wedding photo of Jason and Kodi.

You can also purchase and download the song here: Marry Me

And you can learn more about Jason F. Wright here: www.jasonfwright.com

Even if you don’t yet have a connection to these books, I’ll bet you’ll like the song. Especially if you love weddings.

Enjoy!

I grew up in Arizona, not very near my grandparents, who lived in Logan, Utah at the time. Every two years our family would pile into some heaping 4 door Cheverolet or another, (that seemed to always be what we owned back then) and drive up to the famous Call family ranch in Afton, Wyoming. It’s where my dad grew up, and it was the gathering place for these reunions. My dad was one of 14 kids, and most of them had a whole bunch of kids, so these were really big events. There was a huge hayride up a mountain that was still in my dad’s old backyard. We had a gigantic bonfire for roasting hotdogs. Most of the families camped next to the big buildings where the tractors were. It was an adventure. But I have to admit, when my parents told me we were going to visit Grandma and Grandpa, I had a very similar feeling as I did when they told me we were going to see Santa. I knew it was important, exciting even, but when the moment actually arrived to sit on one of those famous laps, I suddenly was struck with the feeling that even though I was perfectly safe, and with someone who loved me, I honestly had no idea who these people were. And when my parents divorced, I didn’t make it to the reunion for many years. I felt somewhat estranged from my extended family.

I’ve been blessed to be able to fix that a little during my adult life in Utah. My grandmother is an amazing record keeper and has published some things about her life and family. I’ve had a chance to study some of those things and learn more about her. Here are some very brief highlights of things I’ve learned. Grandma grew up in the wild west. Freedom, Wyoming. She lived in a house with a dirt floor. Her family had some struggles that made it necessary for her to be a primary caretaker of her many younger siblings. She had to quit school after the 10th grade, which was heartbreaking to her, in order to be able to support her family full time. Then she married young and had 14 kids. Her doctor told her she shouldn’t have too many. She just quit listening to him.

When my dad was a baby, everyone thought he would die. He was blue, and getting bluer every day. He wouldn’t eat. People came to see him and just shook their heads. My grandma never gave up on him. She held him skin to skin and literally nursed him back to health. She did everything she could and then fully expected God to pick up the rest of the slack, and He did.

Grandma was strong, brave, tough, and a very hard worker. She was struck by lightning more than once, and lived to tell about it. She baked many loaves of bread every day. All of it got devoured, every day. She worked out on the land. She wrote poems. She loved her husband very much. He passed away over 20 years ago. She picked up and managed to keep taking care of the apartments they owned and managed, kept watch over their properties and businesses, always kept an amazing garden, and always remained very active in her church and community. She learned to play the piano in her 80′s.

Grandma was always very concerned about her loved ones being well nourished. I have a vivid personal memory of a visit I made to her home with my mother shortly after I moved to Utah. Some kind soul in my grandmother’s ward had just had a successful hunt, and had given her a very large amount of ground antelope meat. My grandmother, being the resourceful person she was, decided to make it into 20 casseroles or so. Whenever she had company, she’d just pop one into the toaster oven. This is what she did that day when we came to see her.  When she put it out onto the table, I wasn’t sure what it was. It looked like refried beans with cheese and onions on top, with an occasional noodle. When she told us what it was, I put a very small amount on my plate. Now, I know that what I am about to say here could get me exiled from the Call family, but I have to be honest. This casserole was not good.  I managed to eat about half of the small amount that was on my plate. We all had a nice visit and went home. A few days later, one of my long lost cousins came to see me at my dorm. After 20 minutes or so, he finally told me he had been sent there by grandma to make sure I was not anorexic! I was touched that she would care or even remember, with all the grandchildren she had, and everything she had going on.

I have a half brother who at one time in life would only eat chicken nuggets. Really. I mean only. That’s all. I witnessed a miracle at one family reunion when Grandma got him to eat an entire bowl of oatmeal. Oatmeal!!!

I have had some wonderful visits with my grandmother. Once when I came to her home, she showed me a special book she was making about my dad’s life. (She did this for all of her children.) It had amazing photos, news clippings, and even old homework assignments from grade school. She showed me an adorable poem my dad wrote when he was a very little boy. I treasured that afternoon, learning more about both her and my own father.

Bessie Call is the grandmother of 96. Great grandmother of 282, the last I heard. Grandma also already has 40 great great grandchildren. It’s a gigantic family. But she never failed to make a quilt for every wedding, and if you ever went to see her, she knew just who you were, and you could tell she had done everything she could to know all about you. She loved every member of her great big family very personally.

Five weeks ago she learned she had cancer. It progressed quickly. When my aunt went to fill a prescription for pain pills for her, they discovered it was actually the only prescription she had on record for her entire life. Grandma mostly used ibuprofen pills to manage pain that most people handle with heavy doses of morphine, up until the last day or two. I went to visit her a couple of days before she passed away. The only thing she said was, “I hope the end is near.”

She now has the wish of her heart. I don’t know if there were hotdogs, a bonfire, or a hayride, but I’m certain that when my grandma crossed over to the other side, there was a marvelous reunion. I’m sure that my grandfather was so thrilled to see her again, and that a heavenly host welcomed her with open arms.

People work and suffer and slave their whole lives in order to be rich, successful, and famous, so they can be important, and be surrounded by people who adore them and worship them. Grandma Call was never famous. But by serving and loving her dear family, she was always surrounded by people who adored her. And she did her best to teach us all to worship God, who makes all blessings possible.

I wrote a song about her a couple of years ago, and I used some of her amazing photos to make a video. Even if you have no connection to her, I think you’ll enjoy it. I’m posting it here as a tribute to her. Click to enjoy. Photographs

So, you may or may not have a few questions. There are several that come up frequently in some form or another, and I thought I’d give you some answers, maybe even to a few questions you might have been afraid to ask. Who am I kidding? I’ve been asked all of these questions at least once. Here goes!

#1. When is your baby due? This is not a trick question. I know about eight blogs ago I told you that you should never ask a woman that question. Except you can now, because I totally told you I am pregnant. For all I know, you didn’t even think I looked fat yet. So, the answer is, February 7th. (P.S. You can still blow this by saying something like, “Oh, I’ve been wanting to ask you if you were pregnant for like six months!”)

#2. Do you know yet it if it’s a boy or a girl? No. I won’t know till September. And I do intend to find out. I’m not one of those super patient people who loves to be surprised. I just can’t wait to know!

#3. Do you hope it’s a boy or a girl? Yes. We definitely want it to be a human. Truthfully, a girl would make me super happy because I feel like I kind of have the girl thing down. And a boy would make me so happy because that would mean I get to be a mom of daughters AND a son. How awesome! So the answer is I have absolutely no preference.

#4. Will you have any more after this? I don’t know yet.

#5. Can I touch your belly? No.

#6. Really? Really. I don’t want you to touch it.

#7. Even if I’m doing it because I think it’s cute? What if I know your mom? You’re just going to say no on this one without any exceptions? At all? Yes. I mean no. Under no circumstances may you touch my belly. Call me crazy, I just think it’s creepy. What if I walked up to some poor unsuspecting person on the street, rubbed his belly and said, “How cute! I love tacos! Wow, that taco just kicked back a little!” See? Creepy. I don’t want anyone friend or foe to touch my belly. The End.

#8. Will you think it is cute/thoughtful of me to tell you how sick/exhausted/gigantic/weird you look today? No. If you have a comment to make about how being pregnant makes me look, feel free to include words like “glow” “radiant” and “gorgeous”. And I guess you can use “sick” if it’s in the good way. As in, “That maternity outfit is SICK!” Never mind. I’m actually not cool enough to know how to use the word “sick”. But a simple “how are you feeling?” will do if you feel so inclined.

#9. Can I carry that heavy item for you? Yes!! Bless you. In a few months, that’ll especially be a big help.

#10. Will you FINALLY quit music now that you are going to be the mom of 3? Nope. Certainly, once the baby gets here, I’ll take it easy for a bit.  But I’ll still be here, dreaming up new music, because that’s what I do.

Thanks again for your support! I can’t wait to hear from you or see you at an event soon.

Love,

Cherie

So let’s say you’re a silly romantic like myself, and you’ve been known to wish on stars. It’d probably be best to avoid those kind if you can. They probably won’t do you much good. But it’s so hard to know sometimes.

Let’s say you’re in love with someone, and it’s complicated. He might even be your best friend. Sometimes he might even cave in and be more than your friend temporarily.  And somehow you know it’s meant to be someday. It’s your destiny to be with some guy who is too dumb to realize it yet. Well, what silly destiny fairy dealt you that card? Fire her!

Here’s why. And this is going to sting a little. But you know all those nights you spend alone, thinking about him? He is not thinking about you.  He is having a great time with other women. All the times you think he might just be afraid of ruining your friendship or making a commitment, he is definitely not worried about those things. He knows that the moment he falls in love with someone else, he will trade your friendship, no matter how great it is, in a heartbeat for the red hot love he really wants.  And you’ll feel hurt and foolish about all the time you wasted. I know, your friends tell you how stupid he is for not loving you, because you’re made for each other. He may very well be stupid, but you are definitely not made for each other if he’s not crazy-mad-cow in love with you. You deserve better.

Want to know what’s way more fun than waiting around to see if I’m right about how this will turn out for you?  Letting go, and opening your heart so you can love someone who loves you back.  Basically, I’m telling you to quit wishing on fake stars or ghosts of stars.  Be happy for a change.  Think I’ve been a little too harsh? Too bold? Too quick to tell you things I couldn’t possibly know for sure? Let’s just say I know. For sure. And the dusty ideas in a very old notebook made for a great new Homeless Song! (See my previous post, “Homeless Songs” if you’ve never heard of a Homeless Song.) My latest song is called “The Day the Stars Came Down.” Listen/watch here: The Day the Stars Came Down

Lately, I’ve been in the mood to finish some of those ideas, and it’s been fun. In a way, the songs have turned out oddly inspirational in spite of the drama, since I now know how the stories ended and I can write about them from the top of the mountain instead of the depressing bottom of it. I can tell myself things I wish I had known or that I would have listened to way back then. Hindsight is 20/20. Maybe I can help someone else who is wasting their time on someone dumb. Or having a hard time getting over something similar to what I have in a song. Or maybe not. Maybe the songs will do no good, but to make me have a fun time writing them.

No matter what, I’m going to share a few of them with you. Why are they homeless songs? Because I honestly have no idea where they belong yet. They don’t have a home on any album or movie or anything like that.

To kick things off, here’s a song called “Big Yellow Moon.”  #mce_temp_url#

Here’s the story: I was walking home from a songwriter’s showcase at the university and my secret crush was walking along about twenty feet in front of me. Eventually I had the guts to catch up with him, but not enough guts to actually say anything coherent. And a couple of blocks later we went our separate ways. If I had been braver, this song is what I might have said. At any rate, it was what I was thinking.

Hope you enjoy. More to come.

I’ve got to be honest with you. Being a professional musician is quite a roller coaster. Sometimes there are huge ups and downs, and sometimes you just have to accept that there is some waiting in line that happens. I’ve been working on a lot of exciting things, and sometimes it is hard to wait to see what will come of it all.

So much of a music career involves creating “new” all the time. New songs. New shows. Everything has a swift shelf life. It’s enough to make even the most successful musicians I know get totally frantic. Every once in a while I have to take a step back, open my eyes, and realize that the very foundation of my life is made up of the things that I desperately hope and pray will always be the same.

At the very top of that list is my beloved family.

I recently had the great honor of singing at BYU Women’s Conference for a gigantic crowd of lovely women. I think there were at least 10,000 people there. I sang a song I wrote for a new compilation album from Deseret Book called “Women of Hope”. My song on the album is called “My Favorite Dream”. Here are the words to the first verse and chorus:

I have dreams, they’re big enough to touch the sky

I launch them as the days go by

I dream them as I hold your hand

And I always try to understand

The reason that I’m in this world

I wonder as the days unfurl

And I’m running out of time to grant all the wishes that I had as a little girl

But even if I don’t cross the ocean blue or climb the tallest mountain

It isn’t as tragic as it seems

There are a million things I want to do, but only if I can be with you

And I know what forever means

And  you are my favorite dream

The irony isn’t lost on me that the song I just sang to the biggest audience of my life is a song about how my very most important audience is actually made up of three people. Joe and my girls. And I guess you’d better add God to that list. And maybe my mom and dad. But you get the idea.

I was recently commissioned to write a song about the Mormon Temple in Manti, Utah. I wasn’t very familiar with the history when I began the project. I drove down there to meet with a woman who has lived in the shadows of that gorgeous building all her life and knew all about it. I took a couple of books with me that she let me borrow. When I got home I decided to write the song about the people who physically built that temple. It was a daunting project until I decided to use real names of people and have pieces of the verses be about the specific jobs they did. The song began to write itself. I felt an amazing spirit as I thought of those real people. I thought about the people who came to work each day and just chiseled stone. Or hammered nails in the framework. It all took a very long time. In my quest to include at least one female name in this song, I did a google search and stumbled across the life history of a woman who helped make some carpets for the temple, and baked 40 loaves of bread a day for her family, the workers, and other people in need.

So I’ve been buried in stories about people who hammered  all day. Or baked bread that was immediately devoured. Or donated all they had, with no thought of reward. Some of those people died before the temple was even done. But together they built something amazing. And when I read back about their lives, they’re heroes because they kept working at it a little each day.

So when it comes to my music career, I have to realize that some days will involve hammering lots of nails into an unfinished building. Hopefully I’m creating something beautiful, a little at a time.

And when it comes to my family, I have to remember that I am not just making food that is immediately devoured. The food goes into the tummies of little girls who had no doubt that I would feed them. The fact that I’m there to do it means something to them and to me. When I look back on my life I will remember the days our whole family sat together at our table and they threw spaghetti all over the floor, and I wiped the sauce off of their tiny lips. (Except Joe. his lips aren’t tiny and he’s actually mastered the twirly fork thing, and doesn’t just shove handfuls of noodles into his mouth with his bare hands.) Anyway those days will matter more to me in the end than the big audience days.

Change is good. It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s necessary. But sometimes

I see this life I love

And I plead with God above

To leave it like it is.

Sydney is four, and I can only think of three things that frighten her. #1, dogs. #2, bees. #3, the dark. Oh, and once I think she had a nightmare about a bear. That’s it. Know what doesn’t frighten her? Walking up to a complete stranger and saying, “Hi, I’m Sydney!” In fact, when she sees other kids and even some adults, she asks me, “Mom, who is that friend?” Everyone is automatically a friend unless they do something enormous that proves her wrong about them. I’m not even sure that’s ever happened.

She is also not afraid to get up onto a stage during sound check for one of Joe’s shows or my shows, when half the audience is already there, and start singing a song at the top of her lungs that she only half knows. She does it in style. Once, the early birds even gave her quarters and begged for more.

She is not afraid to try to do new things, even if they’re hard. She’s learning to read right now in pre-school. Sometimes when I read her a book at night she reads all the small words for me. Then she asks me if I can show her how to read the big words. She sounds them out, and when she gets stuck, she just asks for help without feeling silly about it at all.

I could try to tell you what it is like when she dances, but it’s impossible. Confident might be the only adjective I can find.

She is not afraid to try new foods. And if she ends up hating it, she’s not afraid to tell you very passionately.

She is not afraid to tell you exactly what she needs and then demand it.

Sometime, somehow, (I can only hope and pray that I’ve had something to do with this) she has come to believe that she is amazing, that there is no need to doubt herself, that she’s talented, beautiful and smart. She believes that if she can’t do something, it’s only because she hasn’t learned how to do it yet, but that she could if she ever felt like it and if it didn’t get boring.

She still has all the other biblical things about her that make her an amazing, innocent child. So here’s something amazing; when you mix it all together, you do NOT get pride. (At least not the evil kind of pride. Not the Pharisee kind.) You just get confidence.

How do I get that without being four years old again? There has to be a way. I wish I knew for sure. But maybe it all begins with believing in yourself, so much that there’s no need to be ashamed of the things you can’t do, or haven’t done yet. I feel a tiny bit closer to that feeling when I can see the faith that someone else has in me. Especially when I feel the faith that God has in me. I have flashes of confidence all the time, but I’d love for it to be more of a constant. I’d love for it to come naturally from within.

A couple of years ago, Sydney was playing with her costumes, and she was flying around the house in sparkly wings, like a butterfly. Then she dug a super hero cape out of the box and brought it over to Joe. He started taking the wings off of her but she got mad. She wanted both. So he velcroed it on. And she staggered around the room trying to pick which way to fly, with this clumpy mass of fabric on her back. She quickly backed on over to us, so that one of us could help her. She said in her almost three year old dialect that I can’t quite remember now, “You don’t need a cape if you’re already a butterfly.” The moment I heard it and translated it, I knew it meant something important. The meaning changes a little all the time. But what it means to me the most is that when you know for sure who you are and what you are meant to be, everything else makes sense.  You don’t need artificial helps. It has a lot less to do with fancy clothes you buy or how perfect you may or may not look and it has so much more to do with the glow that comes from within when you feel pure confidence and love.

I wrote a song about her butterfly philosophy and both of my girls sing it at the top of their lungs:

“You were never meant to be anyone else

You were truly made to fly

And you don’t need a cape if you’re already a butterfly.”

I pray every night that they never forget those words.

I don’t know about you, but the years and the scrapes and dents that happen in life blur that vision for me far too much. I can’t remember sometimes that I have wings. Colorful wings unlike anyone else’s in the world. There are things that only I can say or do. So I should do them confidently and with love.

I used to be the host of a radio show, and I got to interview one of my favorite songwriters, Beth Nielsen Chapman. She said something so profound. I have to paraphrase because I don’t have the exact quote now. But she pointed out that no one else has ever seen the world from the point of view that originates exactly behind your eyes. Even though we all see a lot of the same things, we each have a story that only we can tell in our own way. As a songwriter that’s very exciting to me. But it’s also exciting to me as a liver of life in general. No mom will ever be like me. No wife will ever be like me. No random lady in a castle or in a cul-de-sac will ever be exactly the same as me. What amazing, unique thing can I do today? As cheesy as it sounds, maybe Prince has something there. Maybe when you feel a little weak in the knees, it’s quite important to remember, “Nothing compares 2 U.” (P.S. I totally know that the song is actually a depressing but super catchy song about getting your heart smashed. But we’ll talk about that another day. Or not. Just let me imagine Sinead’s voice screeching it to me as a super awesome compliment, written by Prince. There, all fixed.)