THANKS
Produced by Shelby Lynne
Co-Produced by Ben Peeler
Everso Records
Released 2014

Every year when Easter Sunday rolled around Sissy and I knew we would have to get up and get ready to go to church. Mama always fixed us both a basket with a chocolate bunny in it, some jelly beans and a new pair of pantyhose, sometimes even a new slip to wear underneath the new Easter dresses she made us every year without fail. She was just cool that way. Her priorities had everything to do with us and doing the best she could for us no matter the trials she was living through with Daddy. She took care of us and tried with everything she had not to forget the details, make sure we knew how much she loved us and how proud of us she was. I look back today as I sit here on Mother’s Day 2019, and realize just how special my Mama was, and how much she sacrificed for us, how much I miss her, and how I need her today.

And until I leave this earth every Easter I will see those little pink plastic Easter baskets she so carefully put together for us to find bright and early on Easter morning, knowing there was no Easter bunny, just sweet Mama and that was fine.

I want to tell y’all about this little record named THANKS I made a few years ago. I have to say we were not religious people, even though we were raised to believe in JESUS and be Christians, love our fellow man no matter what they had or who they were and to love each other, try not to say Goddamn, and even if it slipped out of their mouths as parents, we were never to repeat it, ever.
Mama and Daddy were raised in the church because it was a different time and their parents were raised that way. So when the doors opened to show light they were in their pews doing what good Southern Christians do. Praying and singing, and wearing their Sunday best. When we went to church we were to behave and try not to giggle at each other during the boring sermons. Mama always gave us the eyebrow and a pinch under the soft flesh of my underarm if I didn’t act right. But church it was, and we went on occasion but not that often.

Daddy was usually still in the bed on Sunday mornings from carousing the night before so he to slept off whatever bar and the whiskey he chose to spend the evening with. Sissy and I were free and to ourselves on those Sunday mornings. I’d be so glad as 11 AM rolled around because I knew it would be too late to rush into church at the last moment and force us to go.

The music from the churches we grew up in was from the old Baptist and Methodist hymnals, nothing contemporary at all, all traditional from the old dusty green, tattered books that lived in the back of the church pews we sat in. JUST AS I AM, SOFTLY AND TENDERLY, THE OLD RUGGED CROSS.

Religion has always been a weird concept for me. I have always thought that my relationship with my maker was a private one and that it’s so private I have never felt like sharing that relationship with anyone except my maker and me. So I don’t go to church but to each his own. I don’t think I’m on a greased slate for HELL if I don’t go to church every Sunday just to see what everybody is wearing. Not my thing.

But when we talk about music, and gratitude and glory and all of its relevance in what it is in I do and how I choose to use the gift my maker gave me it’s a whole new thing. I do want to share. I was born a singer. I was put here to sing to the world and share a sound, a vibration, songs, and stories so the world that hears it might make a change, or feel better, or feel embraced by something bigger than what we are, to be a messenger through music the best I can.

As I have gotten older in the last 15 years or so in my life I have explored my spirituality in different ways by reading books and studying the kinship between nature and life, the afterlife and heaven, the dead and the alive, and just how close we are through all of it.

There is not a day that goes by I don’t send out some kind of prayer or message to my Mama that I lost 33 years ago in hopes of receiving a message back from her in some way, even if it’s a yellow rose, or a sunflower or a breeze I allow myself to believe is her spirit rushing over my skin, allowing myself to think she is there comforting me to get through the day.

Because I still feel we all need something to hold onto. And if it takes a prayer or closing our eyes to feel nature wash over us, listen to the birds, see the trees bend and the morning glories bloom for that quick hour in the early morning still dripping with that lacy dew, or a hummingbird hovering around the trumpet vine glistening iridescent in the sun, those little wings making a magic wind all their own, sign me up.

These things are my religion. These are the simple beautiful gifts that we receive in such small tributes to GOD. If we take the moment and stop and really appreciate the small exquisite things our maker provides for us we can feel the spirit.

So this little EP I made a few years ago was something that I really wanted to do. I had started writing some songs based on my spiritual growth and wanted to just do a simple taste of half a dozen songs that meant a lot to me. I listened to a lot of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Mahalia Jackson and incorporated my own homegrown feel into it.

WALKING IN THE STEPS, CALL ME UP, THIS ROAD I’M ON, moved me and I felt the spirit as I wrote them as they went down on the record.

Whether or not spirituality stays with us in our daily lives, it comes in and out to remind us that we are individuals and not mistakes, it gives us confidence when we need it to stop and smell the pretty roses. Spiritually we carry on even when we forget to be grateful.

I am grateful for my life, my family, my friends, and my gifts. And I am grateful for that private relationship I have with that maker of mine, somewhere, somehow always there to remind me, I’m here for a purpose.

BUY

THANKS
Produced by Shelby Lynne
Co-Produced by Ben Peeler
Everso Records
Released 2014

Every year when Easter Sunday rolled around Sissy and I knew we would have to get up and get ready to go to church. Mama always fixed us both a basket with a chocolate bunny in it, some jelly beans and a new pair of pantyhose, sometimes even a new slip to wear underneath the new Easter dresses she made us every year without fail. She was just cool that way. Her priorities had everything to do with us and doing the best she could for us no matter the trials she was living through with Daddy. She took care of us and tried with everything she had not to forget the details, make sure we knew how much she loved us and how proud of us she was. I look back today as I sit here on Mother’s Day 2019, and realize just how special my Mama was, and how much she sacrificed for us, how much I miss her, and how I need her today.

And until I leave this earth every Easter I will see those little pink plastic Easter baskets she so carefully put together for us to find bright and early on Easter morning, knowing there was no Easter bunny, just sweet Mama and that was fine.

I want to tell y’all about this little record named THANKS I made a few years ago. I have to say we were not religious people, even though we were raised to believe in JESUS and be Christians, love our fellow man no matter what they had or who they were and to love each other, try not to say Goddamn, and even if it slipped out of their mouths as parents, we were never to repeat it, ever.
Mama and Daddy were raised in the church because it was a different time and their parents were raised that way. So when the doors opened to show light they were in their pews doing what good Southern Christians do. Praying and singing, and wearing their Sunday best. When we went to church we were to behave and try not to giggle at each other during the boring sermons. Mama always gave us the eyebrow and a pinch under the soft flesh of my underarm if I didn’t act right. But church it was, and we went on occasion but not that often.

Daddy was usually still in the bed on Sunday mornings from carousing the night before so he to slept off whatever bar and the whiskey he chose to spend the evening with. Sissy and I were free and to ourselves on those Sunday mornings. I’d be so glad as 11 AM rolled around because I knew it would be too late to rush into church at the last moment and force us to go.

The music from the churches we grew up in was from the old Baptist and Methodist hymnals, nothing contemporary at all, all traditional from the old dusty green, tattered books that lived in the back of the church pews we sat in. JUST AS I AM, SOFTLY AND TENDERLY, THE OLD RUGGED CROSS.

Religion has always been a weird concept for me. I have always thought that my relationship with my maker was a private one and that it’s so private I have never felt like sharing that relationship with anyone except my maker and me. So I don’t go to church but to each his own. I don’t think I’m on a greased slate for HELL if I don’t go to church every Sunday just to see what everybody is wearing. Not my thing.

But when we talk about music, and gratitude and glory and all of its relevance in what it is in I do and how I choose to use the gift my maker gave me it’s a whole new thing. I do want to share. I was born a singer. I was put here to sing to the world and share a sound, a vibration, songs, and stories so the world that hears it might make a change, or feel better, or feel embraced by something bigger than what we are, to be a messenger through music the best I can.

As I have gotten older in the last 15 years or so in my life I have explored my spirituality in different ways by reading books and studying the kinship between nature and life, the afterlife and heaven, the dead and the alive, and just how close we are through all of it.

There is not a day that goes by I don’t send out some kind of prayer or message to my Mama that I lost 33 years ago in hopes of receiving a message back from her in some way, even if it’s a yellow rose, or a sunflower or a breeze I allow myself to believe is her spirit rushing over my skin, allowing myself to think she is there comforting me to get through the day.

Because I still feel we all need something to hold onto. And if it takes a prayer or closing our eyes to feel nature wash over us, listen to the birds, see the trees bend and the morning glories bloom for that quick hour in the early morning still dripping with that lacy dew, or a hummingbird hovering around the trumpet vine glistening iridescent in the sun, those little wings making a magic wind all their own, sign me up.

These things are my religion. These are the simple beautiful gifts that we receive in such small tributes to GOD. If we take the moment and stop and really appreciate the small exquisite things our maker provides for us we can feel the spirit.

So this little EP I made a few years ago was something that I really wanted to do. I had started writing some songs based on my spiritual growth and wanted to just do a simple taste of half a dozen songs that meant a lot to me. I listened to a lot of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Mahalia Jackson and incorporated my own homegrown feel into it.

WALKING IN THE STEPS, CALL ME UP, THIS ROAD I’M ON, moved me and I felt the spirit as I wrote them as they went down on the record.

Whether or not spirituality stays with us in our daily lives, it comes in and out to remind us that we are individuals and not mistakes, it gives us confidence when we need it to stop and smell the pretty roses. Spiritually we carry on even when we forget to be grateful.

I am grateful for my life, my family, my friends, and my gifts. And I am grateful for that private relationship I have with that maker of mine, somewhere, somehow always there to remind me, I’m here for a purpose.

Everso Records Shelby Lynne Logo
BUY
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