One question that is commonly and frequently asked of musicians is ‘who inspired you to get involved with music?’
Most of the time, the answer is usually a parent, or a teacher, and that is certainly the case with me. I feel, however, unusually blessed to have been inspired by a host of others…friends…friends who took the time to nurture and pour into my life in ways I could never fully pay back.

One such friend is John Ray. He and his amazing wife, Jane, like beautiful tapestries are intertwined and connected with some of my best memories.

Last week, I was going to drop John an email, or a call, as I watched Ken Burn’s documentary on our National Parks. As the camera panned over the Rocky Mountains, I remember John and I camping there for a few weeks. He and I would stupidly try to scale heights and mountain walls without proper gear, rope, or common sense. On one occasion, he had to climb back down to get me ‘unstuck’ from a position where I couldn’t go up or back down…about a hundred feet in the air…and so, when we reached the top, I exalted in the glorious view with a healthy sense of humility…and fear.

A fellow Texan, we would trade off driving, as we criss-crossed the nation in vans full of missionary students. Name that tune was a common past time, as well as stopping to investigate the beauty of nature that, too often, I now simply pass by.

In Texas we marveled at ‘enchanted rock’…in Memphis we cleaned out a house where cockroaches covered the walls like shiny, black wall paper…across the ocean, in Minsk, Belarus…we, like pilgrims of a new age, celebrated thanksgiving dinner with our translators…and laughed in dismay as ‘cranberry sauce’ and ‘stuffing’ were just a couple of the things that our Belarusian friends found infuriating about us…and in St. Petersburg, after the wildest train ride I’ve ever had, we both marveled at the majesty of St. Isaac’s cathedral, and the wonders inside the hermitage museum.

We became strong friends, in spite of the fact that he was 10 years my senior…he was a mentor, pushing me to make better choices as a musician, to trust my gut, to work with others in a musical setting. His wife, Jane, an accomplished artist, collaborated with me on the artwork for my first CD (through these thorns). She also drove Debbie to pick me up at the airport in Tulsa…John and I were working in El Paso together, and the meal the four of us shared could be considered one of our first ‘real’ dates, and I’m sure Jane and John got a kick out of watching our awkwardness that night…for I was in love, and all through the El Paso trip, I pestered John for advice.

Through the years, John has championed my musical journey even as he and Jane raised their four beautiful daughters, Hope, Hannah, Naomi, and Olivia to be lovers of God’s wild, exciting and sometimes dangerous plan.

Maybe you will understand, then, why it is that there is a darkness, a sadness, spear-like, puncturing my heart as I try to wrap my head around the fact that Saturday, 10 year old Olivia Ray…who in August had danced at our concert, wore her circleslide bag with pride as she helped us tear down our gear that night…Saturday she was hit by an SUV as she crossed the street, in a crosswalk, after attending a children’s athletic event…later she succumbed to internal bleeding and died.

Deb and I will drive to Arkansas, to be with our friends at the memorial service. We will try and offer comfort, we will try and understand how this fits into God’s design…but who knows if either will be found this side of eternity?…neither comfort or understanding seem to be very close right now.

If you know the Ray family, you know their spirit and their faith are strong…but it’s a sad overcast day here in Nashville…and my heart is flying over the scenery of happier times…and the world seems a bit emptier today.

-gabe