The Same Blood (The Newest Song)

Another new song, from my songwriter group.
Man, I love that group.
Three songs in four weeks.
 This one, it think is my favorite so far. Hope you like it...





The Same Blood
They're rattling their sabers
Stirring up our fear
Of the ones beyond our borders
Far away from here.

They tell us we're in danger
That the enemy must fall
But after all their shouting
We still hear a different call

The same blood on the day we're born
and our mothers hears our cry.
The same blood on the battlefields
where our children go to die.
The same blood when we lift our prayers
to heaven up above.
The same no matter who we hate
or who we choose to love

We are red and blue states
We are straight and gay
Black and white and brown
Those born here and born away.

The wedges cut so deeply
They almost split the root
But now and then we stop to see
There's a deeper truth

The same blood on the day we're born
and our mothers hears our cry.
The same blood on the battlefields
where our children go to die.
The same blood when we lift our prayers
to heaven up above.
The same no matter who we hate
or who we choose to love

La la la....

We can cling to differences
that keep us all apart
Or choose to love the life that flows
Through every beating heart

La la la....

The same blood on the day we're born
and our mothers hears our cry.
The same blood on the battlefields
where our children go to die.
The same blood when we lift our prayers
to heaven up above.
The same no matter who we hate
or who we choose to love

La la la....
(Words and Music, Eric Folkerth. Copyright  © 2012. All Rights Reserved)

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Looking For Love in All The Wrong Places

Last night, at our Staff Parish meeting, one of our members shared this devotional, from Rev. David Blanchard.
I thought it was powerful, and worth passing along...EF

Most of us look for love in only the most obvious places, and as a result, most of us come away disappointed. Its as if we are still grade school kids, counting valentines as a measure of what matters. The love that matters is not typically the subject of sonnets or love songs.

There can be love in being told we are wrong. There can be love in sharing a regret. There can be love in asking for help. There can be love in communicating hurt. There can be love in telling hard truths. Most of us find it painful to live at this level of love, but it can be there, even in these most unlikely places. It isn't the kind of love we've been promised in the fairy tales of princes and fairy godmothers, but it is the kind experienced by frogs and dwarfs. Its the sort of love that can bring us closer to finding the missing pieces of ourselves that we need to make us whole.

Some of the most loving things I've ever experienced, I haven't been ready for, wasn't looking for, and nearly didn't recognize. A few of them I didn't want. But all of them have changed me, transformed some part of me, filled in a place that I didn't even know was empty.

When the valentine has been tucked away in a drawer, the candy eaten, the flowers faded and gone, there will be other legacies of love that will last as long as we do, because they have brought us to know an element of life‹part feeling, part idea, part mystery‹that once known, is ours to keep.

Source: David S. Blanchard, A Temporary State of Grace: Meditations, Boston:
Skinner House Books, 1997

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Southwind (A New Song)

A short new song, from our songwriter group this week... "Southwind"



Southwind

I find I'm always wary
Near the end of February
Just yearnin' for this frozen cold to end
'Cause I can still remember
How you left us last September
So I'm dreaming of the day you'll come again

Melt my heart
Melt this snow
Warm the day
Warm my soul
Show me some new way to go
Southwind blow.

More than meteorology
Or even pop psychology
I need a change of weather deep within
'Cause I have been a barren tree
So come on strong, and help me leave
Make the Spring be born in me again.

Melt my heart Melt this snow
Warm the day
Warm my soul
Show me some new way to go
Southwind, blow.

Words and music by Eric Folkerth

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