You know me. Might want to find a comfortable chair, pour a glass of
something good.
Hello,
So here we are:
Two weeks from today, people will be streaming into Nowhere Else,
getting ready to eat a farm to table meal, viewing some beautiful
artwork in the barn and keeping one ear out for the bobwhite quail
whistling from the wild edges. Then we'll all lean into the music
right along with our Band of Sweethearts in a big circus tent strung
with bare light bulbs.
But just one week ago we were making breakfast and brewing coffee in
our old farmhouse kitchen with Lisa.
Lisa had driven from Barnesville early Thursday to spend the day
with us and with Barbara, Karin's mother, who had entered hospice
care. Lisa and Karin grew up together in Barnesville. They chose
each other as children and have remained lifelong friends.
Tracy, Karin's close friend who she met 30 years ago shortly after
she moved to Cincinnati to start a band, also joined us once again
for much of the day. (It's interesting to me to see the people that
Karin chose, and the people that chose Karin. It's notable that both
Lisa and Tracy are good storytellers. And damn funny. Also, they are
two of the most rooted family people I've ever met. Solid.)
It was Thursday, and it would turn out to be Barbara's next to last
day on earth. We shared stories in Mama B's room, laughed, cried
real tears, reminisced. We believe Mom got to listen in as she was
beginning her passage through the veil - the stories that usually
get told after someone is gone.
I whispered to Barbara more than once, You did good. You have a
daughter at your side fiercely advocating for your well-being. You
are surrounded by people who love and care for you. Well done.
(Deepest gratitude to Jessica and Amanda, chosen family and
professional support for Karin and Barbara for nearly two decades.)
There was a moment that afternoon when the sky turned dark and a
storm moved through. Honestly, it felt a bit like Jacob wrestling
with the angel for a blessing. But then the storm passed, and
something lifted, and afterward, I don't recall ever seeing Barbara
more at peace.
Friday came. We had breakfast with Lisa, took a little walk through
the barn and then waved goodbye as she headed back to Barnesville.
Karin went once again to Mama B's bedside. At about 5:30 in the
evening Barbara quietly and peacefully slipped away. Karin had just
stepped out when the hospice nurse looked over
and realized Mama B was gone. After a difficult season, it was
peaceful in the end.
Karin quickly returned to her Mother's room (she was just a few
minutes away) and when she walked in to the house where her mother
had been receiving care, voices were singing Amazing Grace. Karin
assumed maybe the chaplain had gathered some singers in Barbara's
room, and she was immediately overwhelmed in the moment.
But when she walked into the room, it was empty except for Barbara's
body. The voices kept singing and she realized they must be a few
rooms over. She had never walked in and
heard singing like it before. Later, when she asked some of the
staff who the singers were, nobody seemed to know what she was
talking about. Sometimes it's best just to let the mystery be.
It didn't go without notice that Barbara passed right before Nurse's
Week. She was a registered nurse for 40 years. Her mother, Stella,
made that decision for her: You will go to nursing school. When
Barbara heard Karin sing as a child, at some point she said, If you
become a nurse, I'll hang you. It's called hyperbole, but then again
none of us in our combined family shy away from dark humor. The
point was, she believed Karin had a gift, and she encouraged Karin
(despite practical concerns and misgivings along the way) to sing.
She wanted Karin to take care of and share her gift and not just
take a job because it would provide a secure income. Music and words
mattered to Mama B.
A few evenings before her mother passed away Karin mentioned to me,
just an aside, When everyone left the room, I sang for Mom. Just us.
You did?
Yes.
What did you sing?
In The Garden.
Me very quietly under my breath, Wow.
Most of you have heard Karin sing. Imagine that moment, a single
mother alone with her only child at the end of the long road, 87
years, and that voice appears at her bedside:
I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses, and
the voice I hear falling on my ear, the son of God discloses...
Well done Barbara. You did good.
And well done Karin.
Recently Karin had a beautiful rose tattooed on her arm, and for
those of you paying attention, it joins a magnolia and a little
garland of wildflowers.
Karin realized quite suddenly a few days after Barbara had passed,
that her Mom had been responsible for her well-being for 18 years.
Then Karin went off to Malone College in Canton to study music, and
began taking responsibility for her own life and vocation.
In 2001 Karin's mother had a devastating hemorrhagic stroke that
left her partially paralyzed, in a wheelchair and with very limited
language. For these last 18 years, Karin was responsible for her
mother's well-being.
Bookends - eighteen years each almost to the day.
Karin realized that they both had done the best they could at the
time with what they had. They both had made mistakes along the way.
They both had gotten some things really right. And at the end of
this long road, love remains.
And the relationship continues.
As our friend Joe says, Gone, not gone.
Karin and I also acknowledged last week that we are both still
really conflicted these days about referring to ourselves as
Christian (and have been for years). Somedays, American Christianity
- as touted by the privileged and powerful - feels mostly like an
oxymoron. Often what is described as "Christian" doesn't describe
us.
And yet we find that in spite of ourselves, our doubts, our
misgivings, in matters of life and death, we are still believers. We
are still hopeful that Jesus was such a lover of the human race,
that he chose to become human, and that his life and death somehow
transcended and upended the finality of the grave. We still hold the
secret hope that God's love is greater than death, for anyone and
everyone.
We hope we'll get to meet our loved ones again someday.
And now as Sunday approaches, if grief is part of your Mother's Day
as you reflect, we are with you.
When I was much younger, one of the few prayers/mantras that
remained interesting to me was asking God to make my life a work of
art. Maybe it was just my way of wondering out loud, If I could
write a good song, why not also try to write a good life?
So I suppose we shouldn't be surprised that we just released a
collection of songs called Love & Revelation, and have talked
openly about the fact that there is a lot of grief in the songs. The
work has an intelligence of its own. The songs are conscious of the
darkness upon the face of the deep, and are aware of things moving
beneath.
But now we begin to turn again to the task at hand. We honor the
dead not only by grieving their loss, but by leaning into and living
their best hopes for us. Once again, It's time to sing. And Karin
and I have never been more grateful for music.
We'd like to invite you to join us here on the farm for Nowhere Else
Festival, our extended musical family reunion, this May 24-26. We
have an incredible lineup of songwriters and bands. Photographers,
painters and storytellers too...
We are a little behind this year - we hadn't planned on saying
goodbye to a parent last week, and all the care and effort required
in the weeks and months leading up to saying that goodbye. But we
are turning our attention now to the final details of this
meaningful celebration. It's going to be oh so good. And we need
this one. Music heals.
We'll be putting more information up on NowhereElseFestival.com in
coming days. In the meanwhile, check out the schedule and list of
contributors below.
And if you've been looking for a dose of inspiration, or even an
extra special Mother's Day gift, maybe surprise someone with a
little hidden away gem of a festival in Clinton County, Ohio.
We hope to see you.
Love & Revelation,
Linford and Karin
Nowhere Else Festival 2019 - THE MUSIC
Friday, May 24
4pm Gates Open
5:30pm VIP Farm to Table Dinner
7pm Over the Rhine
and The Band of Sweethearts (w/special guests)
Saturday, May 25
9am Gates Open
10am - noon: Workshops and/or Artists sharing and discussing their
work (final details will be emailed to ticketholders and posted this
week)
1pm - 1:45pm Leigh Nash
2:15pm - 3pm Buffalo Wabs & The Price Hill Hustle
3:15pm - 4pm Joan Shelley
4:15pm - 5pm The Faux Frenchmen
5:15pm - 6:15pm Birds of Chicago
6:30pm - 7:30pm John Paul White
8pm Over the Rhine
& The Band of Sweethearts
10pm Film - Wings of Desire, hosted by Gareth Higgins
Sunday, May 26
9am Gates Open
10am - noon: Workshops and/or Artists sharing and discussing their
work (final details will be emailed to ticketholders and posted this
week)
1pm - 1:30pm Nikki Lerner - Gospel Brunch
1:45 - 2:30 John R. Miller & The Engine Lights
2:45pm - 3:15pm Song Catchers: Songwriters Selected from Over the Rhine's
Songwriting Workshops
3:30 - 4:30 The Wild Edges Bramble Ramble: Songwriters In The Round
featuring Over the Rhine,
Birds of Chicago, Leigh Nash & Stephen Wilson Jr.
5pm - 6pm Carrie Newcomer
6:30pm - 7:30pm James McMurtry
8pm Over the Rhine
& The Band of Sweethearts