Category: 2021

Kristie writes:

I only discovered this song as summer ended last year (another thankyou to Greenbelt), as I was anticipating the departure of my firstborn for university. The words resonated, I was missing her and she hadn’t even left. 

Hey hey I’m thinking I’ll miss you 
Hey hey I already do 

She has three guinea pigs I was entrusted to care for, and each week after she’d gone, I found cleaning them out a bittersweet experience – doing something for her even tho she was no longer here, really feeling her absence, and also wishing she was here to be cleaning up the guinea poo herself! And so part of the ritual became playing this song whilst I did it, thinking about my sweetheart having the best days of her life.

These days are now the best days of your life

Don’t waste that worry honey, on other people’s fights

Dig hard

Be kind

Live long

And grow, grow, grow honey!

The words summed up some of my wishes for her – to not waste her energy on that which is not hers to worry about, something I think some of us can be tempted by!

And if the moment will cost me dearly 
I’m digging deep for you

And there was also a reminder to me – I think letting go can feel like it’s costing us dearly, and we do have to dig deep into our emotional reserves, but we grow as a result.

Press you thumbs into my shoulders 
And mark indelibly 
So I can look whenever I’m lonely 
And know you’re part of me 

I know that there are indelible marks imprinted in my body and soul by my daughter and I’ve been grateful for them when I have found the separation hard. It’s been a tricky year to be apart, yet we’ve found new ways of relating (hurrah for video calling, and for being able to send all kind of loveliness through the post).

And she’s back home now…

Find out what Hope and Social are up to here: Hope And Social – The internet home of Hope and Social

Gill writes:

Sometimes a song happens along that just captures your attention and your heart straight away.  Here is such a song for me.  It’s as contemporary as they come having only recently been released as a single – and the title is also to be the title for their debut album when it’s released later this year.

I’m generally known to be a ‘glass half-full’, Pollyanna-type person – so it’s hardly surprising that I connected immediately with this song.  It exudes joy, positivity, light and warmth through both the melody and the words.  It deserves to be a summer hit because surely this song captures summer perfectly – buzzing bees, breathing and beauty.

But for all the optimism, there’s a gentle acknowledgment that life has darker sides to it.  It recognises constraints through lines like ‘when one allows her to breathe’ and ‘let the children have the chance.’  The title itself encourages us to open our eyes wider to see ‘how beautiful life can be.’

The lead singer and songwriter of the group, Alex Moore, wrote the song last year, at the height of the pandemic following a conversation with his Mum.  He says “I was just with my Mum just talking about stuff, and the words just kind of came out through the conversation, then I got a little melody for it. I just realised that things aren’t always as bad as they might seem, even though they seem terrible at the time. We always get through things, and life can actually be really beautiful.” (Far Out Magazine: 25/6/21)

One of the coping strategies that is commonly used by those who are struggling with stress, anxiety and worry is guided imagery (or taking yourself to a ‘happy place.’)  The practice of closing your eyes, resting in a comfortable place or position, and imagining yourself in a place where you felt relaxed, happy and tranquil can have a calming and soothing reaction. The same can be found in prayer – particularly in practices like Centering Prayer and the Ignatian Daily Examen – which is why cultivating and nurturing prayer life is so important in faith-filled lives.

Music can help transport us to such places too.  Listening to poetry and stories can do the same.  I wonder how many of you were taken to a back garden in the summer sun, visually following a bee as it flitted amongst flowers as soon as you heard the first lines on this song? 

So, I invite you to sit back, turn the volume up and enjoy a summery, breezy slice of a song appreciating life for two and a half minutes.  It’s just how beautiful music can be.

Find out more about The Lathums (and where they are touring at the moment) by visiting their site at https://www.thelathums.com/#/

Michael writes:

I’m not a massive crier. But there are certain things that always hit me in the feels and cause me to well up. One of those is stories of redemptive kindness.

It might sound a little grandiose, but I genuinely think these kinds of stories are transcendent. Somehow the stories touch our deepest humanity and kindle in us a sense of hope and wonder. It’s almost as if they epitomize all that is good about what it means to be human, and in doing so, connect us to a long lost sense of self. You might say they hint at the kind of interactions we deep-down-sense we might actually have been designed to experience.

I know I’m not alone in thinking or feeling this way. There are whole streams of media dedicated to stories of redemptive kindness that celebrate simple accounts of human goodness and the impact it can have on others.

I can remember the first time I watched Extreme Makeover Home Edition, and wept as Ty and team beautifully customised a new house for a lady and her 3 adopted daughters, all of which had been born with HIV. The completed project not only supported their particular health needs, but was a haven of peace that celebrated and fostered each of their passions and personalities. I was so moved by how blessed both the family and those involved in the development of the home were.

I experienced all the same feels the first time I heard this song by Foy Vance. Foy’s music is always raw and honest. He writes about spirituality, emotion, love and loss. This song is amongst his best. It’s a stunning musical tale about the impact that unconditional love can have on others – particularly those who are really in need or aren’t used to receiving such kindness.

It describes a woman in need of shelter from a (literal and metaphorical) storm; carrying the scars of drug-addiction from an abusive relationship. She has no money to pay for such shelter and so, in desperation, offers her body instead to a concierge. Instead of taking advantage of the woman’s vulnerability, the concierge offers her his own bed and some dry clothes, sits with her and nurses her as she experiences ‘cold turkey’, listens to her, comforts and encourages her, and just generally behaves as a decent human being. The crescendo of the song includes the following phrase and is the bit that always sets my eyes watering.

I was always taught if you see someone defiled

You should look them in the eye and smile

Take their hand or better still take them home

I find it impossible to hear these lyrics and not think of Jesus. After all, he was the master of redemptive acts of kindness. Not just on the cross, but in almost every interaction he had with those in need or who were used to being snubbed by others.

But the thing is, I’m also reminded that we all have the potential for the same acts within us. We are all created in the image of the divine son. And I’m certain that’s why TV shows like Extreme Makeover and songs like Indiscriminate Act of Kindness resonate so deeply with us and move non-criers like me to tears. They remind us of who we really are and how we’re really meant to be. Lavishly, unconditionally, loving. Simply, and unconditionally kind. That is what Jesus himself came to teach and Foy summarizes what it means to walk the way of Jesus well:

If you can help someone,

Bare this in mind

And consider it an indiscriminate act of kindness.

Find out more about Foy Vance at https://www.foyvance.com/

Alison writes:

You might prefer the dance version by Candi Station or the more chilled one by Florence and the Machine, but the energy and the lyrics in both versions of You(’ve) Got The Love are, for me, an excellent hymn.

Coming up for 8 years ago, I married Ben. I’m a Christian, he isn’t. We looked at the options of a civil ceremony or Christian ceremony, and it wasn’t legal for me to bring my faith to the civil ceremony context, and he was able to bring his whole self to the Christian one, so we married in our local Methodist Church.

‘You’ve Got The Love’ was one of our congregational hymns led by friends (of faith and not) who made a band for the day. Ben could sing the words as an aspiration for our love and I could sing them about that too, but also to God; Not as an aspirational thing, but with an assuredness.

If you watch the video here then you will also see that this song could also be Christ’s words as he heads to the cross (albeit with a non-orthodox ending in this film where he doesn’t go to his death on the cross, maybe to his death into the sea or maybe to freedom), but it’s the words I am focusing on, not the issues raised in this video!

You’ve got the love I need to see me through

There is much I like about this song, most of which is that each verse start with statements about rubbish things in life

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air

Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough and things go wrong no matter what I do

But there is one line which I struggle with

When food is gone you are my daily meal

I don’t think literally this can ever be true of the love in our marriage, and also I struggle with it as part of Christian theology too

Give us this day our daily bread

Not everyone does have enough to eat. God doesn’t intervene and make it right, and therefore sometimes only rage can express the lived experience, and tagging on a ‘you are my daily meal’ doesn’t cut it.

In the Candi Station version, scattered in amongst the gloomy opening lines to verses is this one

Occasionally my thoughts are brave and friends are few

I can identify with this; occasionally I am brave too.

Occasionally I cry out Lord what must I do

And this for me feels like the wake up call about the angst I have about the previous verse. God does provide enough food, it is our systems make it unjust. So what must I do to make this right?

If I apply this back to the marriage and other human relationships, it is also a good question to ask then ‘ ‘what must I do’ to make this right? Or, a version of this I find more helpful in my life as I am discerning next steps is ‘what is mine to do?’

This helps to take the edge off the unhelpful protestant work ethic ethos within me, because the answer to this question implies that there are things that are NOT mine to do. And God has the love to see me through that too!

The Source are no longer making music together but you can find out what Candi Staton is up to here: https://www.candi-staton.com/

Lynne writes:

I’ve pinched the first couple of paragraphs from a Word in Time post I wrote last year – so apologies if it seems familiar…

When I was a teenager, and going through all the regular anxieties that the condition of being a teenager brings (worrying that I wasn’t ‘cool’ enough, dread of going to another day working in a Saturday job I loathed, exam stress, etc), I got into the habit of singing the old 1980s chorus “Be Bold, Be Strong” to myself.

Be bold, be strong

For the Lord your God is with you.

Be bold, be strong,

For the Lord your God is with you.

I am not afraid,

I am not dismayed,

Because I’m walking in faith and victory,

Come on and walk in faith and victory,

For the Lord your God is with you.

It’s a habit I carried with me into adulthood. I still catch myself singing it quietly when I’m about to do something that scares me. It serves to remind me that God’s got my back and that, even if I make a fool of myself or fail, God’s love for me won’t change. My perspective shifts a little when I sing this chorus and I remember that embarrassment is only temporary and God’s love and goodness is forever.

I share this with you to give you a glimpse into how my mind works, which will hopefully help me as I go on to explain why I’ve chosen to write about this song, best known from a Christmas movie and (if I’m being honest) a little bit on the twee side.

I spent Christmas Day last year on my own for the first time ever in my life. I know that 2020 was a difficult year for many people, and please believe me when I say I am not trying to win any sympathy competitions here! But, by the time Christmas Day rolled around, I was definitely exhausted and in low spirits. In the few weeks leading up to Christmas I had attended (virtually) the funeral of a friend; supported my partner through the disappointing results of a job interview; supported my sister as she navigated caring for her fiancé (who had broken his kneecap and found out his mum was very sick) whilst also completing her PhD thesis, struggled with a flair-up in my chronic pain and spent ten days at my family home helping to nurse my mum after emergency open-heart surgery. To top it all off, while at my parents’ house, I’d slipped in some mud and really badly injured my foot. In summary I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.

I did everything I could to keep my Christmas spirits up – I decorated my tree, made myself a turkey dinner and watched the different carol services on the television – but I kept finding myself feeling glum. Then, as part of my efforts to save Christmas, I started watching one of my all-time favourite festive movies, White Christmas.

I LOVE this movie. In particular I love Danny Kaye. I think that he and Vera Ellen dancing together and singing ‘The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing’ beats, hands-down, anything that Kelly and Astaire ever did (I accept that some people may disagree). Usually it’s this bit of the movie – with Ellen’s ridiculously pink and foofy ball gown (I want that dress) swinging around the patio – that is the highlight for me. However, on this viewing, it was a scene that didn’t even feature Kaye and Ellen that caught my attention. Instead, it was the moment when Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sing ‘Counting Your Blessings’ that made my ears prick up. Particularly (and this is when I start to come back, full circle, to how I use ‘Be Bold, Be Strong’, as I mentioned at the start of this post) the chorus:

When I’m worried and I can’t sleep

I count my blessings instead of sheep

And I fall asleep counting my blessings

Even as I say this I know how odd it sounds, but I really did feel God meet me in that moment. God met me in my tiredness, my worry about the wellbeing of my various loved ones, my grief for my friend, my loneliness, my pain. I didn’t feel condemned or guilty about the pity parties that I’d been throwing for myself, but I did feel my perspective shift. I wasn’t alone at Christmas because I had no one – I had lots of people who I cared for and who cared about me and I was only away from them because that’s what we had to do to keep each other safe in the pandemic. I started counting my blessings – the fact that the doctors had caught my mum’s symptoms in time to carry out the life-saving surgery, the friend who drove half-way up the M6 from the West Midlands to help me get home from Lancashire when my parents no longer needed my help, the luxury of having time off over Christmas to rest and sit in my pyjamas under a duvet watching Danny Kaye movies, the modern technology that not only allowed me to attend my friend’s funeral but also enabled the annual family Boxing Day Perudo championship to happen…

So now I have two ‘go-to’ choruses to sing to myself and help me shift my perspective. This kitsch little song reminds me of a time when I felt God meet me in my fed-upness and it helps me to practice gratitude – which we all know is a great way to boost positive mental health. As Psalm 118 (and another well-known sung chorus) tells us, “This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Jane writes:

Last month saw the 50^th anniversary of the release of the album ‘Blue’ by Joni Mitchell.

It’s not a fact I’m keen to hear, as even though I was only 7 when it was released, it still makes me feel really old.  ‘Blue’ was an album I came to quite late I suppose, but once it was in my life it was really hard to imagine it to be otherwise.  I have a deep affection for it and often turn to it when things aren’t all they should be.  It’s like a comfort blanket or a reassuring arm around the shoulder. It’s a place to go to when you need to dig deep and cry your way through stuff. It’s familiar and safe, and every chord or note has something to say that’s distinctive and about life. It’s haunting and brave. It’s a place of solace. It’s bright. It’s occasionally Christmassy. It’s got nerve.

It’s an album that charts a mountain of real life incidents for the writer. Love affairs ending, struggling and new ones starting. Grappling with addiction. Pregnancy and adoption. Lament and loss. Joy and discovery. Temper overflowing. Straight speaking. All manner of life is here.

With the Friday Fix we rarely talk about an album’s worth of songs but its really hard to separate them from each other in this case as they represent the whole of something. A time of life. A lifetime in fact.

Into the midst of all this then comes the title track, ‘Blue’. Its opening line sums up for me everything about the love of music and how it cuts to the soul

Songs are like tattoos you know….

This song is one of those that I really have no idea what it’s about. A person masquerading as Blue. A feeling of depression. A realisation that you go over the same ground and still can’t get to escape the grasp of addiction maybe, or a need for freedom.  The complexity of love. A gift for someone that is troubled or precious or needing to hear something. An offering. It’s rare for me to say this but in a way it doesn’t matter because it’s under your skin. It becomes a part of you this kind of music, and you can’t shake it, or explain it. It’s essentially inked into you.

I’ve been a person of faith for a good while now, and I recognise in me an inability to put my finger on why exactly. I am not a conversion experience kind of person. I’m more a dawning realisation kind of girl, and when asked to explain why I people should believe in God the only response I could offer – and it may be a bit weak – is that my life was better with a sense of God in it than it was without. It matters.  Don’t mis-hear me. I’m not saying easy. I’m not saying simple or truly blessed. I’m not even saying under control. I’m just saying faith is part of me and I can’t shake it or explain it, but it’s essentially inked into me like this song.

Explanation is not always what you need, but assurance of something that sits deep in the soul. Music. Faith. Whatever it is you can go back and find solace in what you’ve grown to be sure of. To rely on what is deep within you. Under the surface. Indelibly written on you.

You can find out more about Joni Mitchell (and the album) here  https://jonimitchell.com/music/album.cfm?id=5

Michael writes:

I recently had the joyful experience of driving down to Basingstoke. To refer to such an occasion as ‘joyful’ might seem odd, even sarcastic. After all, there’s really nothing particularly special about the place (unless you count the excessive number of roundabouts). But I grew up there and for 24 years it was where I called home. So it remains one of my all-time-favourite places to be.

The last stretch of my journey always takes me a long a winding country stretch of the A33. Without fail in recent years, whenever I’ve found myself on this road, two things have happened: first, I’ve begun uncontrollably smiling. Second, Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran has come into my head.

When you think about the lyrics to that song, its not hard to see why:

I’m on my way,

Driving at 90* down those country lanes

Singing to Tiny Dancer

And I miss the way you make me feel – it’s real

When we watched the sunset over the castle on the hill.

*(No speed limits were actually broken in the making of this blog post)

For many, this song has become an anthem of adolescent nostalgia. It reminisces about Ed’s life growing up, and some of the times, events, places and people that shaped him into who he is today. In a particularly poignant final verse he reflects on where his childhood friends are now.

One friend left to sell clothes

One works down by the coast

One had two kids, but lives alone

One’s brother overdosed

One’s already on his second wife

One’s just barely getting by, but

These people raised me

And I can’t wait to go home

We only get a hint at the stories of each, and each hint contains a level of sadness. I find the words hugely relatable: we’ve all experienced the sadness of losing friends as they move away, or watching their lives not quite turn out in the way we’d imagined. Many of us have grieved with friends, or had to watch from afar as they’ve struggled. But even if its been years since we’ve even seen or heard from those who were once our childhood nearest and dearest, there are always certain songs, certain foods, smells or activities, and certain places that conjure deep memories and shine a light on the eternal, inescapable connection we still have, due to our role in each other’s formation.

This song engages with a deep theological truth. Descartes was wrong: its not our thinking that makes us us; rather, we relate therefore we are. We are designed as fundamentally communal creatures. We cannot help but relate. And we are who we are because of those we have related to.

Ed highlights that, we have the profound, unavoidable ability to nurture one another, to raise and shape and form one another, to develop and damage one another, to change and even twist one another. Whether we realise it or not, we are always raising those in our lives: sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.

I’m grateful that my story is similar to the one Ed describes here. At times, I look back on my childhood and cringe. It was filled with many mistakes, embarrassing and awkward situations and a decent dollop of physical and emotional pain. Yet, there are also many happy, standout moments. Most significantly of all, I was blessed to have some amazing people around me who despite their own adolescent ignorance, naivety and messiness, helped raised me through it all and significantly contributed to who I am today. I’m fortunate that some of those people even remain in Basingstoke, and continue to hold a significant place in my life.

That’s why this song and the A33 never fail to make me smile. Despite both the good and the bad memories that place holds and all that has happened to me and my friends in the years since I moved away, it’s very much still a home for me that I can never wait to go to.

Find out what Ed Sheeran is up to at the moment at https://www.edsheeran.com