Some of the best advice I have ever been given is to celebrate everything. It was said to me in the context of songwriting, but I have found it helpful to apply this wisdom to every area of my life. So today, I am celebrating my 55th birthday. I'm not very good at this particular annual celebration, but in light of the past couple of years, I am putting my party hat on today. It feels a little unfair I'll be spending part of this day at an oncology appointment, but such is life. I'd like to tell you I'm almost done with these little visits, but no. They are still a regular part of my weeks and while I continue to be thankful for good medical care, I would be thrilled to never see any of these lovely people again. For now, I choose gratitude. I will also be spending part of my day with 150 high schoolers. I've missed those faces and I'm ready to see them again. I'm not ready to smell them after they've danced for 7 hours a day, but I am definitely ready to see their smiles. In the past 19 months since my diagnosis - wow, I can't believe it's been that long - the list of life lessons I've learned has gotten pretty long. I like to think of that list as my reward for trying to pay attention all along the way, although I'm sure I've missed a few opportunities to learn something. Sometimes I'm just too tired to care. Most days, however, I am very glad for how God continues to teach this weary traveler new things and for the little glimpses of His glory and goodness on this journey. I am knee deep in finishing my new book and record and aiming for a late September / early October release date. If I make that public I have a better chance of making it happen, so there you go...I'm locked in. This project is all about HOPE. When I began writing it I had no idea how desperately I would need hope in the days ahead, but it has truly been my lifeline. There have been some incredibly dark days, many of which have nothing to do with cancer. Life is just hard. But remember that list of life lessons? Well, the biggest one I've learned is how hope is bigger, louder, deeper, stronger, better, and brighter than anything we face here. And while I believe that to be true, I also know hope has to be pursued. Fought for. Championed. Because not everyone has the strength to find it on their own. Thus, my determination to offer hope to people who just can't see it or hear it or feel it on their own. Without a doubt, the past 19 months have made me more purposeful with my days. And while I curse the physical limitations I feel every stinkin' day, I do recognize those limitations demand I be more intentional with whatever time and energy I have. In some respects, my world has become very small and that's not a bad thing. Especially for someone like me who has a habit of biting off more than she can chew. I've had to say no to some people and opportunities, but I've been able to say yes to things that feel more in line with my calling. That feels good. It's like I've been driving 75 for most of my life and now I'm forced to be driving a car that can't go faster than 55. I don't always like the slower pace, but I'm learning to appreciate the benefits of taking life at this speed. It is ironic it took me 55 years to learn this, but better now than never. So here's to driving 55. Here's to trusting God with the speed limits, the u-turns, the detours, and the occasional break-down. Here's to the people I get to travel with. And here's to the amazing views all along the way. They really are easier to see when you're driving 55.
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I have long held to the belief that in times of hardship, suffering, disappointment, and grief, few things can shine a light of hope into the dark moments of life as powerfully as the arts. A few years ago, that conviction was the impetus behind a song I wrote with my friend Joel Lindsey, titled Hope Deserves an Anthem. I recorded and released the song a few months into the pandemic that had many people reeling from the change and uncertainty facing the world. The song is a call to creatives. A call to do whatever it is they do, whether that's songwriting, painting, cooking, writing, or any other form of art, for the purpose of giving people hope. Little did I know what I would be facing a few short months later when I would learn in new ways the power of creativity in facing life's dark moments. On December 31st, 2020, I was diagnosed with invasive breast cancer, sending my life in an unwelcome direction I never anticipated. Anyone who has walked the thorny path of this disease knows how all-consuming it can be. Tests, chemo, multiple surgeries, radiation, periods of recovery, navigating new medications - all of it cast a shadow onto my life that would cause me to cry out for hope in ways I'd never experienced before. Now, 18 months later, still doing everything in my power to slay the cancer dragon, I can say with even more conviction that I believe in the power of words and melodies to soothe a soul like nothing else can. I knew early on after receiving my diagnosis, I would need to write my way through this season. I didn't know if the songs and stories born during this time would simply be my own form of self-care, or if somehow they might be meant for others. I just knew writing would be a balm for my soul and the best way for me to process what was happening. Some of those creative efforts eventually found their way onto my blog, while others have been mine alone to read and sing. Now, I believe it is time to share them with you. After much thought and prayer, along with the encouragement from dear friends, I have decided to release a new project called Hope Deserves an Anthem - A Songwriter's Quest to Find Light in Life's Dark Places. This project includes a book and 26 songs, one for each chapter. While some of the book chronicles my cancer journey, there are also reflections on faith, family, my experiences as a songwriter, as well as a call to creatives to pick up their pen or paintbrush or whatever their creative tool of choice, and start creating. The songs I've chosen for this project are a mix of personal stories, honest prayers, and my earnest attempt to tell people about a HOPE that never disappoints. I am coming to you via this campaign to ask for your help in making this project happen. Some of the songs included in the project have already been recorded, but 15 of them still need to be produced. The book will be heading into production as well and the entire project is scheduled to be released in SEPTEMBER of 2022. All funds raised here will go toward expenses incurred in the process of recording, printing, and creating the online platform necessary to release a project like this. The more we raise, even beyond the goal amount, the more we will be able to accomplish in terms of production and marketing the project. I will also be launching a podcast to support the project's release as a way to spotlight songs, books, and other artistic efforts that offer hope to the world and the artists who are bringing that art to life. Asking for your help in this way is not an easy thing for me, but because I believe so strongly in the the content of this project and the timing of its release, along with the fact that many of you reading this have already expressed your desire to support a project like this, I feel this is the best way to make this happen. Any amount you can give will be a huge help in this effort. As a thank you for contributing, there are several REWARDS available to you. There are early digital releases of the songs and the book, t-shirts, physical copies of my books, and opportunities to meet with me online for mentoring or a 4-week creative jumpstart class. I’m offering a reward to write AN ORIGINAL SONG FOR YOU! There is even a reward for a house concert where I'll come to you and a few friends for an evening of stories and songs. And be sure and check out the last perk. It's a fun one! You can also donate any amount without involving a perk - just click the "BACK IT"button to do that. Any donations above $50 will receive digital downloads of the songs and book, as well as a physical copy of the book. (Click on the perk box for specifics on each reward) The link to the crowdfunding campaign can be found HERE. There is no way to adequately say THANK YOU to those of you who contribute to this campaign, but I can give you my word that I will move forward on this project with the utmost gratitude for your generosity and for believing in what a project like this can mean for those who need to hear and read it. Over the past two years as I have interacted with so many people who are walking a difficult road, I have been told time and time again what they need most is for someone to remind them there is HOPE. That is the ultimate purpose of this project and I am inviting you to join me in giving hope the anthem it deserves. With hope, Gina Boe "I hope these stories and songs bring sustenance to your soul. I hope they make you laugh and cry and feel. I hope they remind you there is always light in dark places. I pray they will direct your eyes to the Creator and in turn, stir your heart to create your own works of art. Together, we can give hope the anthem it deserves, and in doing so, bring light and life to a world that so desperately needs it." GINA BOE - Hope Deserves an Anthem. Snippets of things to come: I started something a couple of years ago and I am about to finish it. I can't wait to tell you about it. More on that next week. Back in the day, I was a singer. Okay, I still am a singer, but that part of my life has taken a back seat to other things in recent years. Those things included motherhood, various jobs, owning businesses, and writing a whole lot of songs for other people to sing. I've loved doing all those other things, but I always hoped I'd get back to the piano and the microphone at some point. I've also written a couple of books and have long planned to write more. I used to wrestle with the notion that anyone (namely me) who puts out an album or writes a book must have some kind of ego to think their words have enough value to put out into the world. I don't think that anymore. I've come to terms with the fact that I didn't put this creative spark inside of me, but I do have a responsibility to use it well, which means taking that spark and starting a fire every once in a while. More on that next week. My friend Natalie encouraged me greatly a couple of weeks ago. I was telling her how frustrated I was because life hasn't been super kind lately and I had plans to build something I was excited about. Now, I wasn't sure I should keep building it. She told me she'd been studying Nehemiah in the Bible (if you haven't read about him, I recommend you do) and even though things got really difficult for him, he just kept building. She told me she thought maybe I should grab another brick and keep building. More on that next week. One of the things that has kept me from moving forward on some plans was the fact that things have felt pretty broken lately. Like I needed to get it together before I could offer anything worthy of anyone's time. Maybe I was hoping life would be kinder soon and I could breathe a little easier. That hasn't exactly happened. BUT, I was listening to a podcast the other day and heard something that has changed my perspective a whole lot. The guest on the podcast basically said if someone is drowning and we throw them a rope that's new and shiny and slick, they won't be able to take hold of it and keep holding on. But if we throw them a rope that's old and knotted and worn, they will be able to grab it and hold onto it and be rescued. I guess that's how I've felt lately - like an old rope that's knotted and worn. Frayed and tested by the stuff of life. But maybe that's the kind of rope someone else can hold onto. So, I'm moving forward on those plans I had. More on that next week. For many years, I wrote songs for the sole purpose of recording and singing them myself. When I would go out and do concerts, I would occasionally sing a song someone else wrote, but mostly I wanted to sing songs that were born out of personal experience. It simply felt more honest and it seemed that audiences connected more with the songs I had written and lived myself. When I began writing songs to pitch to other artists for their records, I had to shift my thinking a little. I wasn't simply writing out of my experiences anymore, but instead, I needed to put myself in someone else's shoes, helping them communicate what they want to say, in a way that feels genuine to them when they sing it night after night, trying to connect with their audience. A few years ago, I wrote a song with my friend Lee, as a possible pitch to an artist who had cut a song of mine on her previous record. We had been given an opportunity to hear what she wanted to say on her next record, so when we met to write, we began crafting a lyric we thought would resonate with her. I might not have lived every line of what we wrote, but I sure believed it. When we finished, we loved the song and hoped it would make the very short list of songs that ended up on the album. It didn't take long for our hopes to be dashed as the song was quickly rejected by the powers that be. I'd like to tell you that because rejection is an almost daily part of a songwriter's life, we took the news well. We didn't. I don't care how much it happens, having your song rejected stings, every single time. I've learned to trust God with when and where a song finds its home, believing He knows better than I do what journey a song is supposed to take. In this case, the song was eventually recorded by a group, but I also I ended up recording the song myself for a project I did a few years ago. Even though it wasn't originally written from a personal place, the song had become more personal to me over the years and I loved singing it live. Full transparency, I don't like how personal this song has become. I've lived more of this lyric than I've cared to and people I love dearly are living its words even now. But even though it's a little painful for me to think of how personal this song has become, I still believe in its message. Probably more now than ever. It feels like what I wrote back then was intended for me to hear now and to pass along to people I know who are afraid, hurting, weary, and doing everything they can to just get through another day. If you are weary, do not lose heart. If you are brokenhearted, let me remind you there is hope. If you are trying to hold it all together, you don't have to. He will lift you up. He will be enough. He will carry you. I have never been more thankful for Jesus. Because of what He did to make things right. This resurrection day, more than ever, I am reminded of all that is broken and in need of healing. Mercy feels more necessary and grace more undeserved. So I have never been more thankful for Jesus. I have never been more thankful for Jesus. Because I am angry at what sin and its consequences have done to the world. To those I love. To me. I see the results of pride and selfishness and I want revenge and the strength to change. I want justice and I want to be transformed. But He took care of all that. He is taking care of all of it. That's why I have never been more thankful for Jesus. I have never been more thankful for Jesus. Because He did what continues to be so incredibly hard for me. Love feels like more of a decision and forgiveness feels more like waking up every day and choosing to let go. To let what has passed be the past. But He proved it can be done. So I have never been more thankful for Jesus. I have never been more thankful for Jesus. Because the darkness feels heavy and some days I just want to lay down in the dark. Days when I don't even care if daylight is near. But Light is relentless and piercing and nothing can overwhelm it. Not even my own desire to stay where it is dark. No, I have never been more thankful for Jesus. I have never been more thankful for Jesus. Because on days when I feel more acutely the pain of what was lost in the garden, He reminds me He is not only the God who died to pay the debt for that loss, but He is also the God who was resurrected to restore what was lost. He was resurrected to breathe life back into bodies and souls. He was resurrected to heal families and mend friendships. He was resurrected to make rough roads smooth and crooked paths straight. He was resurrected to do what no one else could ever do. And the Hope I have because of all His resurrection accomplished, sustains me. Every day, in every way, Hope sustains me. Yes, of this I am certain, I have never been more thankful for Jesus. For anyone wrestling with understanding, forgiving, and letting go. MORE TO THE STORY There is always more to the story Pain that we can't see Fear behind the anger Wounds that still cut deep There is always more to the story We think we know well But there are words unwhispered Still too raw to tell There is always more to the story Still yet to unfold And some determined to remain The part that's left untold There is always more to the story Only shared in time When the heart is ready And the soul unwinds There is always more to the story Waiting for a grace That welcomes it to surface And breathe in safer space There is always more to the story One day soon we'll find Room for you to tell me yours And I will tell you mine I mentioned in my last blog you'd be hearing more from me in the days to come. Which you will. And yet, it's been a month since I last blogged. Let me explain. My friend Wilma, piano extraordinaire and my favorite person to hang out with at a funeral, once told me about her personal journals. We were passing the time in a back hallway at a mortuary one day discussing the things we pray about. (I know there's a lot to unpack in those last two sentences, but now is not the time - more on that another day.) She shared how, over the years, she had filled dozens of journals with prayers about all the things she needed to talk to Jesus about. Wilma had recently moved from the farmhouse where she'd spent the last few decades of her life into a much smaller house in town. As is necessary with such a move, she had to sift through all the material possessions that had accumulated over the years in order to downsize. When it came to her journals, I told her what a treasure I thought those had to be, and how cool it would be for her kids and grandkids to look through someday. She replied, "Oh, honey, I burned those things." I'm sure my chin hit the floor as I said, "You did what?" Wilma explained. "Sweetie, there were things on those pages no one ever needed to see. I wrote some horrible things in there. I told God exactly what I thought about some people. I cried tears of anger and grief on those pages. No, I could never let anyone see them." After hearing her share all the reasons why those journals had to be reduced to ashes, I understood. There are some things you just have to keep between you and Jesus. I've been writing lately about a lot of things that will never see the light of day. The unbloggable things. I've always been very careful about the things I put out into the world. Sometimes, when I do put thoughts out for all to see, they are veiled in a way that makes them more palatable or generic. Sometimes I write in a way that protects people I care about. I haven't always done it perfectly, but I really do try. However, truth be told, I've probably been a little too careful. Finding the balance between writing honestly and still honoring the higher calling to love is tricky. As I'm trying to figure out what to put out into the world, I've never been more thankful for Jesus. He gets me. He gets anger. He gets injustice. He gets pain. He gets feeling misunderstood. More importantly, He gets grace. He gets forgiveness. He gets loving people who've hurt you. He gets showing mercy. And God knows I need help with those things. I am grateful for burnable journals. Of course it's a bit harder these days when burning has to come in the form of passwords and encryption and delete buttons. Maybe I need to go back to paper and pen. We'll see. For now, as I hit "post" on another blog, I ask for grace as I work all of this out for myself in a way which hopefully isn't just me clearing my head. If that was the point of this blog, you'd get to see it all - the good, the bad, and the very, very ugly. But because I believe in the power of words and the value of an honest writer, I am compelled to continue to give voice to a few things I hope will be of some use to you. And the rest will just have to remain in the vault of unbloggable things. Health update: I’m almost 6 months into my post-radiation meds. After making some adjustments, they are now tolerable. From what I’ve heard and read, some people say the first 6 months are the worst, so I’m hoping things get a little better from here. I’ve had several women tell me they couldn’t even make it this far on these drugs, so I’m grateful I’ve been able to stay on them, even if they do make life pretty awful some days. Still doing PT and OT, though not as often. I’m anticipating another surgery in late May/early June, then I’ll plop myself on the deck for another summer of recovery. The thought of that brings very mixed emotions, but it is what it is. My doc wants me to have an MRI before surgery, which came as a surprise to me since I was told I wouldn’t have scans unless something warranted them. But this way, if something is found, it can be dealt with during one surgery, and not a myriad of follow-up tests and procedures. So, if you feel like praying for something, pray the MRI is clear, and pray my insurance will pay for it. Apparently insurance companies are more likely to pay for a scan on someone who’s never had cancer than someone who’s been through treatment. Good grief. Moving on… I am sitting poolside at my brother and sister-in-law’s house in Phoenix. We made the trip down to visit Houston, who is loving college life at GCU. I think the timing was good because I got the feeling he was getting a little homesick. He texted me one day last week and said, “I’m listening to all of the songs from The Middle of My Life.” (An album I released several years ago) I replied, “What is wrong with you? Are you okay?” Turns out maybe he thinks his mom is semi-cool after all. Anyway, I am grateful for these few days to hug him, talk about life, laugh, and watch him do his thing. Perry and I even got a shout out on the ESPN+ broadcast he was doing Saturday night, as we sat in the stands at a GCU softball game. Good work, kid.
A year ago this week, I was knee deep in chemo and anticipating that in a year, things would look pretty “normal” again. If you’ve kept up with this blog at all, you know the journey didn’t go quite as smoothly as I had hoped, but that’s okay. Normal is overrated anyway. While I wish there were no more appointments, meds, or surgeries in my future, there is a strange comfort and dare I say, excitement, in having the curtain pulled back, if even just a little, to see your own mortality. You make decisions differently. You gauge disappointments differently. Relationships take a higher priority. And hopefully, you see time as the fleeting wonder that it is, then choose your path accordingly. While I haven’t been blogging as often in recent weeks, I’ve been writing a lot. Songs, books, musicals. And I’m having a blast. Okay, most days I’m having a blast. Like most creatives, there are many days when I fight my inner critic who says, “Why waste your time on this stuff? No one wants to hear or read this anyway. None of this is of any value to anyone. You’re a 54-year-old woman who should probably come to terms with the fact the no one really cares what you have to say.” Yep, that voice is loud. And really annoying. And some days, it’s pretty convincing. Other days, I feel like I can and should do anything I want to, dog gone it. I especially feel this way after watching things like the Olympics, or a half-time performance at the Super Bowl where a bunch of middle-aged folks have just killed it. Combine those moments with the One Voice that compels me to keep creating and I’m pretty confident I’m not done writing and unleashing new work. So, in the weeks and months to come, you’ll be seeing and hearing more from me. I’m really excited about that. After all, time is a fleeting wonder. And I will choose my path accordingly. I am a big fan of new beginnings. For years, there have been certain markers in my life that bring me a good measure of joy at the thought of a clean slate and a fresh start. Mondays hold a special place in my heart, offering a new week full of opportunities to try again. I'm fond of August because for over twenty years, it meant the beginning of a new school year, both as a homeschooling and public school family. And for as long as I can remember, January has always felt like a big ol' door swinging wide open into twelve months of possibility. New beginnings are the best. However, this December, like no other December I can remember, I have struggled a bit to be excited about turning the final page on a calendar year and diving into yet another January. On December 31st, 2020, at 4:39 p.m., I received the news that would drastically change the next new beginning I would face. January 2021 still felt like a new beginning, but it was obviously different. Unexpected. Unwelcome. Unknown. Last January would lead me into the most difficult year of my life, and while I am able to see so much good that has come of the past twelve months, it is impossible to completely shut out the memories of pain, sorrow, anger, and intense disappointment I have wrestled with. And if I'm being honest, I have had some fear about what the next January might bring. I have spent quite a bit of time thinking about what 2022 might hold. It would be easy to let the worries of the past year creep into those thoughts and become afraid of what is coming. When you've been beat up and seen those you love beat up as well, fear can be all-consuming. But I've been working hard to let the voice of hope be louder than the voices of doubt and pain. Doing that work has looked like dreaming big and making plans. I've also been remembering how I've been cared for because the ways I've been loved makes me want to love others better. I am a different person going into 2022 than I was going into 2021. Thank God for that. I wanted to leave this year with a song as a message for January - both January 2021 and January 2022. I asked Houston if he would take this song and put together a video using some photos throughout the past year because all of it is worth remembering and reason for celebrating. Even the pictures of the tougher days are worth acknowledging because they remind me how far I've come and that fills me with more gratitude than I can possibly express. I pray your January brings you a beginning filled with fresh starts and new adventures. I pray you are able to turn the calendar page with gratitude for what you've survived and with excitement for the path set before you. And however you are ending 2021, I pray you will walk bravely into a new year with great joy, hearing the sound of hope, loud and clear. There are good days ahead. HEY JANUARY Gina Boe Hey January 2021 I never dreamed you'd come And put up such a fight You did your best to take me down with you And some days I thought too That you just might I gave you tears and sleepless nights But I'm still here and I'm all right (And I'm) Stronger Better Wiser And maybe even gentler Than I used to be 'Cause I believe Hope is bigger Louder Deeper Than pain and fear will ever be So I want you to know As you come and go You don’t scare me January Hey January 2021 I'm not the only one You shook to the core You knocked my people down but we got up And all of it made us Closer than before You took your shots, and left your scars But we’re still here and now we are CHORUS Hey January 2022 I'm coming after you And I’ve got dreams to chase And what you give and take will never be Enough to silence me So hear me when I say I might bend but I won’t break And what you do will only make me CHORUS Today, as I sit here in my writing room, feeling pretty well, sun shining in the windows, with my kids in the other room doing things that make them happy, it is a little easier to see some of the good that has come from the past 12 months. I honestly never doubted good would come out of this season, but what I have come to define as good, isn't necessarily what I expected. Would I change how I came to appreciate these new definitions? Of course I would. Good grief, I wouldn't choose the events of this year for anyone, let alone my own family. But do I have a glimpse of purpose in how 2021 went down? Yeah, I think I do. I have noticed how people are often attracted to one particular attribute of God's character. Some people tend to talk about His power. Others focus on his love and goodness. Some naturally default to talking about His grace or even His judgement. As for me, I find myself regularly falling on God's sovereignty. I don't believe there are accidents or coincidences, but I do believe in the working out of a plan that is perfect, even when I don't like it. In all honestly, I haven't liked His plan for me this year. But just because I haven't liked it, doesn't mean I haven't trusted Him with it. What has been harder for me, has been trusting Him with His plan for the people I love who have walked through their own personal hells this year. I've found myself having more talks with God about that stuff than my own crap. I've prayed a lot over the past 12 months, for myself and for people I care about. Some of those prayers have been answered. Some have not. Some of the answers have made life feel better. Some have not. God's kindness doesn't always look like I think it should. His grace shows up differently than I'd like it to. And I've come to see His blessing doesn't always mean my comfort. The thing I try to remember is that God is ultimately motivated by love. So if learning more about that love takes teaching me some new definitions for words I thought I understood, then so be it. 2021 has been hard. But I think I know more about God's hand of blessing because of how hard it has been. I'd sure like next year to look differently than this year has looked. But more than that, in December of 2022 I'd like to be able to say I trusted God even more because of what the new year brought my way. THE THORN
Gina Boe I begged I pleaded I prayed Believing You would come and take away this pain You heard You listened You knew How this would help me learn to trust your perfect ways Sometimes your kindness is the closing of a door Sometimes your grace is in the raging of the storm Sometimes the answer isn't what I'm praying for Sometimes the blessing is the thorn This need This aching This road Is taking me to places I don't wanna see This hope This waiting This faith Is making me into who you want me to be Sometimes your kindness is the closing of a door Sometimes your grace is in the raging of the storm Sometimes the answer isn't what I'm praying for Sometimes the blessing is the thorn So if you choose to take it Or if it should remain You will love me through it either way Sometimes your kindness is the closing of a door Sometimes your grace is in the raging of the storm Sometimes the answer isn't what I'm praying for Sometimes the blessing is the thorn |
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