Let's Weave Our Stories Together

These records didn’t just accompany my story; they shaped it. Each one, a groove cut into who I am.

I’ve been spending a little time with my old records lately.

Well, the LPs and 45s that survived the great purge of 1990 back when I sold off most of my collection to help pay for something that would turn out to be regret.

​Thankfully, I kept a few records that helped me get through it.
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The records left on my shelf now, lined up alphabetically and tucked into their little genre neighborhoods, feels less like a music library and more like a diary or a memoir of my life written in vinyl.

These aren’t just albums. They’re chapters. They’re the soundtrack of who I was. And how they shaped who I was becoming.

There’s the multiple punk records that taught me how to question everything. The folk-country album that showed me how to pine and pray without realizing I was either. And let’s not forget the Motown single that carried me through my first, second and third heartbreak.

These records didn’t just accompany my story; they shaped it. Each one, a groove cut into who I am.

As I look at the records stacked next to my turntable, I realized this is the perfect metaphor for our new church theme—Woven Together by God. A record collection, like a tapestry, gets its beauty from its variety.

No one album, no single sound, tells the whole story. It’s the interplay, the harmonies, the surprising transitions that make it something worth listening to.

Anamesa is like that. Each of us brings our own melody—our own colorful thread—to this shared life. Some of us offer the steady bass line of faithfulness. Some bring the bright horns of joy. Some carry the soft, aching harmonies of lived experience.

Alone, each story is meaningful. But woven together? Held by the same Spirit? That’s when it becomes art—something textured, holy, and alive.
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So here’s my invitation to you. Bring your thread. Bring your song. Bring whatever makes your life sound like you. Together, God is stitching us into something beautiful—something we could never become on our own.