There are old songs that rise up from deep Southern roots, from church porches, country fields, and tired hands in prayers of mourning. Ain’t No Grave is one of those songs.
This version was recorded by Foundog Wilson, a gathering of family and fellow musicians I’ve played with for years. This is a heartfelt tribute to grief, memory, and hope that (hopefully) defies the grave.
I believe in the kind of music that remembers. That honors the dead, and points to our living God.
“O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?” — 1 Corinthians 15:55
Watch the full video below. And stay tuned …more Gospel Sessions are coming soon.
I grew up on stages and in studios, steeped in theater, dance, and music from the time I can remember. It was my daily bread. My formation. Thank you, Mom, for forcing me to do it! From Shakespeare and children’s theater production on the Big Island, to costume sewing and prop design and onstage performance, I have lived and breathed the craft.
I love it so much!
Even after becoming a mother, I stayed in the rhythm of performance, eventually shifting from the stage to the less demanding focus (for a new mom) on the music and local gig world. Songwriting became my great love. I really loved it and was always learning as much as I could – a bit of percussion and hand-drums, guitar, and uke.
My last play was in the The Vagina Monologues in 2012 (not a feminist, just a theater girl who said “why not?”), I gave myself wholly to the role, and it was very challenging and rewarding. That’s the magic of theater: it asks everything, but it gives so much back.
Back to my story. When I was 16, I decided I was going to be a jazz singer, after realizing I wasn’t cut out to be an opera singer (LOL!!!!). This decision was also very bold for a girl still learning where the beat landed. My sense of timing was off, my ear still green. But I had a big heart for singing, and so much love for vintage music from the time I was a toddler. I also had a mentor.
Jim had played with the legends: Nat King Cole, Anita O’Day, Blossom Dearie. He comically named his home, Club Jim, and it was a living archive of jazz history… a sanctuary for any musician who wanted to show up to his weekly jazz jams…that came with an open invite to all his musical friends. I showed up. I stayed. I learned. I had no idea how blessed I was to be there!
He became a very close friend, my mentor, and a formative part of my musical soul.
So now, in that same spirit, I’m launching “Club Grace” …a little corner of my home where the all those old romantic songs still live, a makeshift stage is in the making, and I hope many musical moments will be made with my musical friends. Not just vintage jazz. I am all about variety in musical genres!
Club Grace (a work in progress, going to make a better stage):
Every Thursday night, or possibly every Monday, I’ll be hosting a sweet and groovy jam and playing some great music, right from my front room. Just me and friends, old and new, carrying the torch with the same joy that started it all.
For all of us who love the music.
I hope to be sharing these performances on my YouTube channel and here at gracearmstrong.art.
You’re invited to join me , wherever you are.
Stay tuned. Light a candle for the blessing that is music. And welcome to Club Grace.
The older I get, the more I realize how essential beauty is to a life well-lived. I’m not even talking about surface-level beauty, the kind that sells products or feeds vanity. I mean the kind of beauty that nourishes the soul; early morning sunshine through the trees, music that makes you cry, a baby’s laughter, the sacred quiet of a Sunday morning. That kind of beauty is what makes life rich and meaningful.
I’ve never been driven by money. That’s just not who I am. But the hard truth is that when you don’t have money…or even when you’re just constantly scraping by, it becomes much harder to experience beauty. Not because beauty is expensive, but because poverty or financial struggle keeps the soul in a cage.
"I wasn’t made for clocks and noise, for traffic jams and plastic toys, for screens that steal our light away for years and years of grinding days.
I was made for life that's slow, for meadows where wildflowers grow, for nights that turn the sky to gold, for stories that my daddy told."
When you’re locked into survival mode, your mind takes over, worry and planning and analyzing takes over. The mind becomes so focused on bills, food, deadlines, the next task, the next problem, that we lose access to our beauty seeking eyes. And the soul, the part of us that yearns for beauty, for meaning, for God-goes dormant. It falls asleep.
This world engages us on the level of fear. The economic system we’re in was not built for us in our most natural and whole state. It demands constant hustle, constant striving. It’s too expensive, too demanding, too artificial. Most people I know are bone tired. Everything is such a grind.
"My life it grips with cold demands,
with bills and debts and tired hands.
Life has taught me to live in fear,
to ignore the wonders year by year.
My mind takes hold, sharp and bright, it drives me through this endless night. While deep inside, my soul I keep laid down her head and fell asleep.”
We weren’t meant to live like this…chained to devices, trapped in traffic, juggling rent, insurance, groceries, all while trying to be gentlemen and gentle-ladies, genuine, good and loving people who thrive on deep connections and regular experiences of awe and grace. There’s barely any room left for anything like that.
But I don’t think poverty itself is what kills the soul. I’ve seen people who have nothing, or even less than nothing, who are sick or dying, but still marvel at the stars. I’ve read stories of beautiful moments, beautiful wisdom, even in war zones, natural disasters and the poorest places on earth. Beauty, love, grace and goodness finds a way. God finds a way!
What truly blocks us is fear; the fear of not having enough, the chronic exhaustion of just trying to keep our heads above water. That fear -or even just stress over those things, hardens us. It narrows our gaze. And it tricks us into thinking beauty is a luxury, when in fact, it’s a necessity.
"And still I know, when all is still, my soul stirs soft against my will. I hear the birds and knows the trees and hear angels singing in the breeze.
So I commit each day anew, to hear my soul, to seek what's true.. to feed my heart that’s gone unheard to marvel at God's every Word."
We don’t need jet setter vacations, fancy cars, or designer clothes to experience beauty.
We need peace. We need time. We need to be freed...even briefly... from the grind.
Because beauty speaks to the soul, and the soul doesn’t shout. It whispers. And if we are too busy surviving, we simply can’t hear it.
Beauty is as essential to our souls as water is to our bodies, learning is to our minds, and love is to our hearts!
This whole modern setup; it’s all kinds of wrong. The rat race is not only exhausting, it’s dehumanizing. It deadens the very part of us that makes life worth living: our souls. The world doesn’t need more efficiency or opportunities for worldly success. It needs more God. More grace. It needs more stillness. More beauty. More love and more loving connections. And more people with the courage to step out of survival mode and remember that the soul is not a machine. It was made to sing!
I pray we all find beautiful moments that make our souls sing.
gracearmstrong.art 