Album Notes

I can remember in a little church called Satterwhite, where I would stand on the church alter ‘cause I was only two, I would always hold a hymnal. That’s where I began singing for the Lord.

When I was five, I began begging for piano lessons. My older brother was already taking piano lessons from the organist at the church we were attending at that time and whenever we were there I would say, “ask her one more time daddy.” She had never had a student as young as I was so it took till I was six before she gave in. But I remember her saying once, “and the little dickens was good.” I took from her till I was almost eight and then I began taking lessons from an older lady in McLoud, Oklahoma. It was with her that I learned Bach, Beethoven, Mendelssohn and the like. She told me she used to play for silent movies when she was young. I took lessons with her till I was 14. When I was 14 I was learning a song to play at my church and I didn’t like the introduction to the song so I began changing it up. When I was happy with it I played it all the way through and I remember exactly how I felt. It was like a surge of chills went through me and I realized I had written something. Later I took that same introduction and put it to my own song. That was my first song, an instrumental piece called ‘HIS’. I began writing instrumental music and then went on to lyrical writing where my first song won a scholarship.

I was delighted in high school to be in band. My teacher obliged me to try many different instruments. I began with cornet and then went to marching with cymbals until I hurt my knee and had several surgeries which sidelined me. That’s when I found the marimba. The school had just purchased it and my older brother was the first to play it. I played it through to my senior year. I remember my two favorite compliments I ever received about playing the marimba. One day at the beginning of the season a guy came through the door with our new music and he said, “who’s Holli?” I answered and he handed to me my music. He said, “Mr. Tipton said to give you the hardest music.”

Another time after a marching contest while reviewing the judges’ tapes, I found out that there had been a color guard judge standing next to me when the drum solo began and he stood right there until the song was over and gave some nice comments about my playing. Many people encouraged me along the way but I’m disappointed to say not many in my church supported me. I remember being preached at from the pulpit about drums. (Playing the marimba meant I was in the drum line.) But that never sat well with me because I could read the Bible for myself, (thanks in part to Luther, Tyndale, Wycliffe and many others), and the Psalms spoke to my heart. Another time, when I began writing instrumental songs, I was told by my Sunday school teacher that songs were not “Christian songs” if they didn’t have words. (He obviously was not a musician.) I look back at things like that and marvel at God’s grace. My husband calls it a concrete bubble of grace. Because, despite growing up in an atmosphere of legalism and religious bondage, God’s grace has freed me to share the gift of my music with others and to worship Him uninhibited. God not only accepts me and my gifts to Him but has sanctioned me and equipped me to take this journey of praising Him with song.