Songwriter's Retreat, Monday eve: arrival to the Bear Cub Cabin

We've made it; 9pm, and I am the last one to barrel through those doors, arms full of excitement, song lyrics, and weariness from the workday and the nighttime drive. But yes, we're all here.

Although 3 people had to back out at the last minutes (flu, snow, wisdom teeth), I can't help but sensing that those here in the Bear Cub Cabin are going to become a Family nonetheless, we who escaped the wrath of winter storms and viruses. We've changed the guitar strings, setup the recording equipment, and bought enough food to keep us fed for several days.

This was born out of a desire to know what it's like to give our songs over to our friends, and maybe even to those we'd just met. All of us in that cabin had written something of value (isn't all writing of value, in some way?) - songs, journal entries, long letters - but we'd always written alone. One individual's thoughts getting down on the piece of paper or computer screen in front of us.

And we'd known Community in our living rooms, on the stage leading worship, in the throws of grief, but still we'd not really submitted ourselves and our melodies to the larger group, our Family.

What do we expect? What are we doing here? What is worship anyway? These are the questions we raised and gave over to the voice of Community this week. And what we do know is this: we will write; we will pray; we will listen; we will sing.

And now we will rest, for the hour is late.
*all pictures taken by Eric Papp

-Abbye