Stanice Anderson's WOW Zone™
Where WALKING ON WATER is a way of life!

Billie Holiday circa 1947

(Author’s Note: In 1999 while working for USAToday, I wrote real life-stories and sent them out into the world under the umbrella of an email series I dubbed, Food For The Spirit. Within months, my email list grew from 16 friends to over 2,500.  God used then Washington Post reporter, Patrice Gaines, to get my stories to an agent, who in turn, got me a book deal with Walk Worthy Press which was an imprint of NY publishing house, Warner Books. The resulting book? My first memoir, I Say A Prayer For Me: One Woman’s Life of Faith and Triumph. A lot of wonderful and not so wonderful things have happened since then; but through it all, I’m compelled to write real lifestories–testimonies, if you will.  They are also included in my latest memoir, Walking On Water When The Ground Ain’t Enuf, which I independently published along with my son, Mike Tucker with the Reflection & Discussion Guide, written by a gifted writer, DaMaris Hill.  While the following story is not in either book, but freshly written as a Food For The Spirit offering.  I pray that God meets you within the words.  Amen.  So be it.  If you’re fed by it, sign up for future Food For The Spirit lifestories on my website, www.TryWalkingOnWater.com.)

Food for The Spirit: Message In The Music

God being my helper, I recently finished writing my theme song, Walking On Water When The Ground Ain’t Enuf. The road to my this first song in many years has not been paved with daisies but with thorns and thistles.  Now, with lyrics and melody done, instrumentation explored, I’ve ask for collaboration help from a musician/producer friend.

Now, after many dangerous curves, turns, and detours, my road is clear, confirmation has been coming through for past couple months. Music…the melodies and lyrics have been lilting in and out of my head and soul like sweet spring showers.

“Transitions are the hardest to bear
From this to that
From one consciousness to another.”

One day I remember deciding to take the risk, step out of the boat, and walk on water, by sending my writing out into the world in hopes of getting published. Four books, a play, an unsold novel later, I feel the music calling me.

It believe God embedded music into my DNA. I think in song.  I write and songs weave their way in and out of most things I write and inspirational talks I give. During talks, almost like a behavioral tick, I’ll burst out into a song–though most times in the appropriate place.

Lately, I feel music’s pull.

Looking back, With my last ex-husband, though it ended terribly and quickly, he did leave me a gift besides his sudden exit.

He is a gifted musician, songwriter, and guitarist. Let it be known, justly so, he CAN work that guitar. His heros are Wes Montgomery, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Santana and the like. Anyway, together, we built a recording studio in the basement. Mind you, we got married within months after meeting, while he knew that I was a writer,  he didn’t know that I sang and wrote lyrics.  That he discovered, when he asked me to try to sing a song he as working on. I did.

Amazed, he announced, what I thought was only a theory as a etched in stone fact, “You can sing!” Thus began our musical journey.  Music became the glue that held our fragile, clearly doomed marriage together. But was it enough?

Everyday after work and on weekends, into the wee hours of the morning, we created music. We wrote lyrics and I sang, in the laundry room, our makeshift  recording booth, while he laid down the tracks playing the piano, trumpet, guitar, and his cousin helped with drum kit beats.  It was so exciting.

I was in Roland, Strat, JB speakers, and Shure Mic heaven. We’d lay down complete songs by 4 am every morning, then lay in bed and fall asleep to the recordings of the music we laid down.   We talk about the songs and tweaked them.  Music became our breakfast with marriage on the side.  We’d slide in the night’s CD and critique it in the car during our commute from Hyattsville, MD to the USA Today tower in Arlington, VA.  Within six months, we recorded three full albums.

I got caught up in the glorious recording sessions. Music wafting throughout the house; and lyrics flowed from my pen like cool running water.  However, it was not enough to hold the marriage together.

Our lives outside of music became so unbearable for both of us, that one morning, while in the shower, I prayed for his removal.  Two days after that prayer, he announced he was leaving.  Not surprised, I simply said, “Take whatever you want, leave the key when you’re done.”

I left and went to a friend’s.  Upon my return, he was gone and so was most of the studio equipment and the paintings of famous jazz musicians were gone too.  To my husband’s credit and God’s foresight, the ONLY things left in the ex-recording studio were my Shure microphone and stand.

As I looked around at all that I had lost: Yet another husband, the recording studio, a sense of failure loomed in the air.  I tried hard to focus instead on what I had gained:  FREEDOM, PEACE again!  And there was another message that nullified the sense of failure.  The mic & stand!  They represented newly re-discovered, rekindled, resurrected dreams and hopes that God would use the musical talents of singing and songwriting, as well as He was using my gift for writing prose.

An epiphany! A spiritual awaking!  My God, what I assigned the value as a “bad” marriage had brought about something “good” and wonderful.  Musical gifts that friends, family, and strangers insisted I should use, had been left untapped; left languishing at the side of the road mainly because of my own low self-esteem.  They all believed in me before I believed in myself.  With my husband’s exit there entered yet another facet of me ready to be polished.

Through the mixed emotions and tears, that first night, I held onto the refrigerator door as my knees buckled at the thought that I would be alone–AGAIN.  I closed my eyes as if to squeegee the tears, and as I looked at the refrigerator door, a yellow magnet with calligraphy lettering, held the answer to the prayer escaped my soul in the form of a moan.  The magnet read, “Weeping may endure for a night; but joy comes in the morning.”

Standing, embracing the refrigerator like a consoling friend, I let the events of the day waft from my mind up to the throne room of God.  As if to seal it all, I showered, mixing my tears with the refreshing waters and imagined the Holy Spirit pouring down holy oil upon my head anointing me for whatever was next in my life.

Slowly, I drifted off into one of the most peaceful sleeps I had in about 8 months. Even in my dream, I determined to continue to move forever forward to greet my  joy-comes-in-the-morning time with humility and gratitude.

Years, have passed now. I pray that my ex-husband is happy and making incredible music. And me? I’m stepping out into my musical destiny, God being my Helper, walking on water when the ground ain’t enuf–living life in The WOW Zone.

~~~~~~~~

Perhaps you feel a restlessness in your spirit today.  Perhaps, you like me feel the pull into another direction.  I’m reminded, even at this moment my poem, Transitions.

Transitions are the hardest to bear
From this to that
From one consciousness to another

The inner construction of it all
The drilling doubts
When you have blueprints of your own

Only to discover it is more cost-effective to yield to God’s right-of-way.

@2010 Stanice Anderson, Walking On Water When The Ground Ain’t Enuf

~~~~~~~~~

Dear Heavenly Father: Please show us the way to go and make it so plain that even mere children as we are in Your eyes, will understand.  Please empower us, open the doors for us, and go with us, as we know where our help comes from.  The Maker of Heaven and Earth–YOU. Thank you, on the front side of the transition.  Amen.  So be it!

Just An Illusion

Here is a song that Dude Duckett and I wrote together. That’s me on vocals, and him playing all other instruments.  Recorded in the “ex-studio.”