I’ve been writing songs in notebooks and voice memos for over a decade. Fragments of feelings, half-finished melodies, journal entries that wanted to become something more. Life happened—marriage, motherhood, career, creativity—and those songs waited patiently in the margins.
In 2025, I decided it was time. Time to finish what I started. Time to turn those scattered pieces into something whole.
The result is my debut album, Soundtrack of Your Life—twelve songs that trace the journey we all take: coming home to ourselves, fighting for our dreams, celebrating friendship, embracing new beginnings, and living fully in each moment.
These aren’t just my stories. They’re yours too. Because while the details differ, the emotions are universal. We’ve all felt lost and found our way home. We’ve all fought through obstacles to become who we’re meant to be. We’ve all experienced the bittersweet beauty of first love, the fierce loyalty of true friendship, and the terrifying freedom of starting over.
This album is for anyone who’s ever felt stuck and decided to move forward anyway. For anyone who’s looked in the mirror and chosen to be unapologetically themselves. For anyone navigating the beautiful, messy, complicated business of being human.
Each song on this album started as a real moment in my life—some written 7-12 years ago, some finished just this year—but they became something bigger through the creative process. Working with AI collaboration (credited as “Claude H. Becker” as both tribute to my late father’s playful pseudonym habit and acknowledgment of this creative partnership), I was able to finally give these stories the completion they deserved.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing the story behind each track. Subscribe below to follow along on this journey.
An Album Journey Through Spring, Heritage, and Transformation
Hey everyone!
I am SO excited to finally share this with you. My new album “March Winds” is coming in March 2026, and honestly? This one feels different. This one feels like me.
Why March? Why Now?
Here’s the thing: I’m planning to release a new album every month in 2026. Yes, you read that right. MONTHLY ALBUMS. Am I crazy? Probably. But I’m also incredibly excited about it.
And I’m starting with March because spring is my absolute favorite season. There’s something about those first warm days, about things coming back to life, about the way March can be both wild and gentle in the same afternoon. Plus, March holds one of the most important days of my life – March 18th, my son’s birthday. This album is personal in ways I didn’t even plan for.
The Suno Journey: 53 Minutes That Took Hundreds of Listens
Let me tell you about the production process because it was… intense. I used Suno AI to produce the music for this album, and I didn’t just hit “generate” and call it done. Each song went through 3-10 versions. That’s somewhere between 45-150 versions I listened to across 15 songs, finding the exact sound that matched what I was hearing in my head, what fit the story I needed to tell.
Some songs clicked on version 3. Others? I listened to ten different arrangements before I found the one that made me go “THAT’S IT.” And “The Irish Goodbye”? That one came out PERFECT. I’m so proud of how that track sounds – it captures exactly the comedy and chaos I wanted.
What to Expect: 15 Songs, One Journey
This isn’t just a collection of songs about March. It’s a journey. Here’s where we’re going together:
The Playful Opening (Tracks 1-3) We start light – “Leap Day” asks that delightful question: do I really get an extra day? “Twenty-Eight Days” keeps the fun rolling, and then “Wearing Green” kicks off the Irish celebration with pure joy. These first three songs are your warm-up, your invitation to the party.
Getting Personal (Tracks 4-7) Then we shift. “March Eighteenth” is where I tell you about my son’s birth – it’s tender, it’s personal, it’s everything. “Irish Kitchen” wraps you in warmth and comfort food memories. And then? Comedy break! “I Guess That’s Where I Get It From” and “The Irish Goodbye” are here to make you LAUGH. Because we need that before what comes next.
The Dark Truth (Tracks 8-9) This is where the album gets real. “Irish in My Bones” slows everything down and gets honest. And “It Runs on Both Sides of the Family”? That’s the heavy one. The dark satire. The truth about alcoholism that runs through my family tree. It’s the emotional low point, and it’s supposed to be. Because you can’t have renewal without facing what needs to be renewed.
Spring Awakening (Tracks 10-12) Recovery begins with “First Thaw” – hope emerging, lighter cardigans, morning dew. “Robin’s Return” gives us breathing room with peaceful observation. “Seeds of Tomorrow” plants hope for the future with a gentle waltz that sways you back to your feet.
The Powerful Finish (Tracks 13-15) Energy RETURNS with “March Winds” – wild, free, dancing in the chaos of spring storms. Then comes “Bloom Where You’re Planted,” my big vocal showcase moment, the power anthem that says “I’m here, I’m growing, I’m NOT going anywhere.” And we close with “Renewal,” soft but strong, transformation complete: “This is me.”
What’s Coming Next
Starting soon, I’ll be posting about each song individually. I’m going to share the lyrics, the stories behind them, what they mean to me, and why they found their place on this album. For the comedy songs, we’re going to have some fun. For the heavy ones, we’re going to get real.
And because I believe in feeding both body and soul, I’m throwing in some bonuses:
An authentic Irish soda bread recipe (because “Irish Kitchen” made me hungry)
How to make the perfect espresso martini
The secret to making green beer that doesn’t taste like regret
Stay tuned, friends. This is going to be a journey, and I’m so glad you’re here for it.
Album Details
15 Tracks | ~53 Minutes | March 2026
Lead Single: “Wearing Green” The One That’ll Go Viral: “The Irish Goodbye” The One for the Real Ones: “It Runs on Both Sides of the Family” The Vocal Showcase: “Bloom Where You’re Planted”
We’ve journeyed together through four complete albums, eleven movements, and forty-four separate interpretations of the same fundamental spiritual truth: God is faithful, transformative, loving, healing, and eternal.
From baroque majesty to Broadway emotion to singer/songwriter intimacy to alternative rock defiance, we’ve encountered one story told four ways.
What We’ve Discovered Together
Over these past weeks, we’ve encountered the same biblical passages and theological themes through four completely different artistic lenses:
Gratitude/Survival: From formal liturgical recognition to character awakening to intimate personal realization to defiant celebration
Transformation: From architectural baroque beauty to character-driven narrative to acoustic personal journey to explosive liberation
Joy: From trumpet fanfares to infectious ensemble to quiet small moments to fierce defiance
Hope: From formal duet harmony to relational partnership to intimate conversation to defiant solidarity
Healing: From tender baroque to character testimony to ongoing learning to proud testimony
Eternity: From grand finale chorus to communal kingdom vision to personal conviction to cosmic transcendence
Each approach reached different people. Each spoke to different hearts.
Why Four Volumes Matter
In our culture, we often assume that there’s one “right” way to encounter truth. One musical genre. One artistic style. One expression of faith.
But what if God delights in the diversity? What if His faithfulness doesn’t sound the way the previous generation expected it to sound? What if your particular musical language is exactly how God wants to speak to your soul?
“New Beginnings: Four Styles, Same Message” suggests something radical: the gospel doesn’t need a single expression. It thrives in multiplicity.
The classical musician encounters God’s faithfulness through baroque majesty.
The theater lover encounters it through character-driven narrative.
The acoustic seeker encounters it through intimate vulnerability.
The alternative rock enthusiast encounters it through defiant transcendence.
All four encounter the same God. All four discover the same truth. They just hear it in the language that speaks to their soul.
What This Means for Your Faith
As you finish this series, consider:
Which version of each song resonated most deeply with you?
Was it the baroque? The Broadway? The acoustic? The alternative rock?
Or did you find that different versions spoke to you at different moments? That some days you needed formal beauty, other days relational testimony, still other days intimate vulnerability, and still other days defiant power?
That’s not contradiction. That’s wholeness.
Our faith isn’t meant to be one-dimensional. It’s meant to be rich, textured, approached from multiple angles.
The Invitation Forward
In 2026, I invite you to:
Listen to all four volumes. Not just the one that initially appeals to you. Listen to all four and discover how four different musical languages celebrate the same God.
Share with others. If you love the baroque, introduce a friend to the Broadway. If the acoustic version speaks to you, ask someone who loves classical music to listen with you. If you’re energized by alternative rock, invite someone who loves musical theatre to experience it with you.
Notice the diversity. Pay attention to how the same theological truth transforms across genres. What does that teach you about God’s nature? About His multi-faceted character?
Let your faith expand. If you’ve only ever encountered God’s faithfulness in one musical style, discovering it in three others might deepen your understanding, broaden your worship, expand your experience of the sacred.
Celebrate the multiplicities. Recognize that God speaks every language, reaches every heart, and transforms through any artistic medium that carries truth.
The Same Story, Forever Unfolding
God’s faithfulness isn’t a story that gets old. It doesn’t exhaust itself.
It emerges new every morning. It speaks in every language. It reaches every heart.
This past month, we’ve journeyed through that faithfulness in four complete artistic expressions. But the invitation doesn’t end here.
In your life, God’s story will continue unfolding—perhaps in ways you haven’t yet discovered. Perhaps in artistic expressions you haven’t yet encountered. Perhaps in communities you haven’t yet joined. Perhaps in your own voice, in your own music, in your own expression of truth.
The same story keeps telling itself. Through Scripture. Through tradition. Through contemporary art. Through your life.
Thank You for the Journey
I’m genuinely grateful that you’ve journeyed through “New Beginnings: Four Styles, Same Message” with me. Whether you connected most deeply with the baroque, the Broadway, the acoustic, the alternative rock, or some combination of all four, you’ve been part of something genuinely unique.
You’ve participated in a statement that faith thrives in diversity, that God’s truth speaks every language, that the gospel is both timeless and constantly fresh.
You’ve discovered that the same message sounds completely different depending on the language, and that’s beautiful.
What’s Next?
As you step into 2026, I invite you to:
Download or stream all four volumes of “New Beginnings: A Spiritual Journey in Four Musical Languages”
Share your favorite version with someone whose musical taste differs from yours
Reflect on which version(s) resonate most deeply with your faith journey
Consider how encountering God’s faithfulness across artistic traditions might deepen your spiritual life
Join the conversation about what it means to experience faith in multiple languages, multiple genres, multiple expressions
The story continues. The faithfulness endures. The music plays on.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for believing. Thank you for being part of “New Beginnings: Four Styles, Same Message.”
May your 2026 be filled with the discovery that God’s faithfulness really does sound beautiful in every language, speaks to every heart, and transforms through any artistic medium that carries truth.
Welcome to new beginnings. Welcome to the fullness of God’s voice, speaking in the language that speaks to your soul.
Like, a lot of frogs. We’re talking a whole swamp’s worth. A wetland preserve. An entire ecosystem of frogs who were perfectly nice humans but absolutely, definitively, not my person.
There was the guy who talked about himself in third person. (“Kevin thinks you’re really pretty.” Kevin, my dude, why.) There was the one who brought his mom on our second date—surprise!—and the one who asked if I’d be willing to convert to his very specific interpretation of a religion I’d never heard of before the appetizers arrived.
I went on dates where I excused myself to the bathroom and seriously considered climbing out the window. (I didn’t. But I considered it.) I had situationships and almost-relationships and one very confusing three-month thing that I’m still not sure had a label.
The Night Everything Changed (And I Had No Idea)
Here’s the thing about your last first kiss: you don’t know it’s your last first kiss when it happens.
There’s no dramatic soundtrack. No slow-motion cinematography. No voiceover saying, “Little did she know, this mediocre-looking Tuesday evening would change everything.” You just… kiss someone. And then you go home. And then you wake up the next day and eat cereal and go to work and have absolutely no clue that your searching days are over.
I remember what I was wearing that night. (A top I thought was cute but have since seen in photos and… choices were made.) I remember being nervous, which was annoying because I’d been on approximately nine thousand dates by then and thought I’d graduated from First Date Nerves University.
But something about Dan made me nervous in a different way. Not the “is this guy going to be weird” nervous. The “oh no, I might actually like this one” nervous. Which, if you’ve been single for a while, you know is somehow scarier.
We talked for hours. He made me laugh—not polite-first-date laugh, but actual snort-laugh, which was mortifying. He listened like he actually wanted to know the answers to his questions. And when he kissed me goodnight, my brain did that annoying thing where it went completely blank except for one thought:
“Oh. There you are.”
The Beautiful Irony of Hindsight
I didn’t know that night was the end of my search. I still had all my dating app profiles active. (Listen, I’d been burned before. A girl keeps her options open.) I still had that mental checklist of “red flags to watch for” running in the background. I still half-expected him to reveal some dealbreaker, like a secret ferret collection or a belief that the moon landing was faked.
But weeks turned into months. Months turned into “so… are we doing this?” And “doing this” turned into a wedding and a life and two incredible boys and a decade-plus of choosing each other every single day.
Now, looking back, I can pinpoint that kiss as the moment everything shifted. The last first kiss I’d ever have. The one that made all those frogs worth it, because they led me to him.
(Okay, maybe not Kevin-in-third-person. I could’ve skipped that one. But the rest of them.)
Writing “Last First Kiss”
This song had been living in my head for years. I’d hum it while doing dishes. Sing fragments of it in the shower. Write half a verse in my Notes app and then forget about it for six months.
The challenge was capturing that feeling of not knowing—the delicious irony that the most important kiss of my life felt like just another kiss in the moment. How do you write about a turning point that didn’t feel like a turning point until years later?
The answer, it turns out, is nostalgia. Warm, glowing, “let me tell you about the night I didn’t know would change everything” nostalgia. I wanted the song to feel like sitting across from a friend, glass of wine in hand, getting a little misty-eyed about the early days.
I also wanted it to feel hopeful. Because here’s what I wish someone had told me during all those frog-kissing years: your last first kiss is coming. You just don’t know when. And that’s actually kind of beautiful—it could be any kiss. The next one. The one after that. Any random Tuesday could be the Tuesday.
The Part Where Dan Heard It
Writing love songs about your husband while he’s in the next room working on marketing copy is… an experience.
“Hey babe, can you come listen to something?”
“Is it the one about my beard taking over the bathroom?”
“No, this one’s nice. I promise.”
He sat down. I played it. And when I got to the part about not knowing that kiss would be my last first kiss, he got quiet. The good kind of quiet. The “I’m not going to say anything because I might get emotional and I have a reputation to maintain” quiet.
Then he said: “You remember what you were wearing that night?”
Reader, he remembered too. He even remembered my questionable fashion choice. (He was kind enough to call it “memorable” rather than “aggressively 2000s.”)
That’s when I knew this song was ready.
Who This Song Is For
If you’ve found your person and want to slow dance in the kitchen remembering how it all started—this one’s for you. Put it on. Look them in the eyes. Try not to cry. (Or cry. Crying’s fine. I won’t tell.)
If you’re still searching, still swiping, still wondering if your person is out there—this one’s for you too. Consider it a promise that one of these random dates could be the date. One of these kisses could be the last first kiss. You just don’t know which one yet.
And if you’re engaged or planning a wedding? Put this song on your first-dance shortlist. I’m just saying. It would be very cute. And I would definitely cry if I saw the video.
Listen Now
“Last First Kiss” is officially out today! Go stream it, download it, add it to your playlists, play it for your person. And when you do, I want to hear about it. Tell me your last first kiss story in the comments—I want all the details. (Well, maybe not all the details. Keep it PG. My mom reads this blog.)
Share it with your engaged friends. Your happily-married friends. Your “still kissing frogs but hopeful” friends. Music is made for sharing, and love stories are made for telling.
Stay tuned—”Dance With Me” drops later this month, and trust me, you’re going to need tissues for that one.
Here’s to last first kisses, wherever they find you.
With love (and significantly better fashion choices now),
Eternity Begins Today: The Revolutionary Choice to Live Like We Actually Believe
“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain… our citizenship is in heaven… Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” (Colossians 3:2 and Philippians 1:21)
One of the most radical claims of Christianity is this: eternity isn’t something we wait for. It’s something we enter into now.
We don’t live as if God might be faithful. We live as if He is faithful. We don’t hope that resurrection power might work in us. We live as if it does work in us.
This is the leap Colossians 3:2 invites: what if we actually lived like we believe the gospel is true? How would that change everything?
The Baroque Version: “Eternity Begins Today”
The full chorus enters with grandeur. Strings swell. Brass announces. The text builds in intensity: “Our hearts are set on things above, not on the passing things of earth. We fix our gaze upon His love, and in His kingdom, find our worth.”
The music modulates, building energy. “Eternity begins today! Eternity begins today! The old has passed and gone away, all things are made new, we say!”
This is baroque majesty expressing cosmic truth. Not with arrogance, but with genuine theological conviction. The orchestra swells. The choir rises. This is formal affirmation of the most radical truth: Christ’s kingdom is breaking in. Now. Here.
The final chorus—”Eternity! Eternity! Eternity begins today!”—is triumphant, powerful, certain.
This is the baroque approach: celebrate with formal grandeur the revolutionary truth that eternity is now.
The Broadway Version: “Eternity Is Now”
A solo soprano opens: “Can you see it? Can you feel it? The kingdom breaking through, a new creation rising up, in me, in you, in all of us.”
Characters step forward, claiming this truth together. “We’re not waiting for tomorrow, we’re not holding off our hope, eternity is breaking in, and we’ve got the strength to cope.”
There’s a spoken moment that’s crucial: “We are the bridge between the already and the not yet. We are living in both kingdoms right now. And that means we have access to a power that changes everything.”
The ensemble builds: “Eternity is now! All things are made new in Him! Eternity is now, and it starts with me and you!”
This is relational eschatology: we live into eternity together, as community, discovering that God’s kingdom is breaking in through our collective witness.
The Singer/Songwriter Version: “I’m Gonna Live Like I Believe It”
“I’m gonna live like I believe it, like the gospel is actually true, like my life matters, like there’s eternal significance in the everyday.”
The singer/songwriter strips away formality and creates something devastatingly personal. This isn’t about doctrine. It’s about decision.
“I’m gonna set my mind on things above, keeping my heart tethered to eternity while my feet are planted on solid ground.”
Then the chorus—”Live like I believe it, believe it, live like I believe it’s true, let it change the things I do”—becomes an invitation to personal transformation.
“So I’m gonna love boldly, I’m gonna hope fiercely, I’m gonna believe tenderly, and I’m gonna live like I believe that God is faithful and good and near.”
This is intimate conviction: I’m choosing to live as if the gospel is true, starting today.
The Alternative Rock Version: “Eternity Crashes In”
An explosive voice declares: “Everything I thought I knew is burning, everything I thought was solid’s melting. But something’s breaking through the walls, something’s finally, finally arriving.”
The song builds from sparse verses to explosive choruses: “Eternity’s crashing in, breaking down the barriers! Eternity’s crashing in, and it’s glorious, it’s terrifying!”
The alternative rock approach is cosmic, transcendent, defiant. Not gentle. Not passive. But fierce, active, revolutionary.
“The old world is collapsing, the new world is emerging, and I’m caught in the collision, and I’m finally, finally surging.”
There’s a crucial realization: “This isn’t someday theology, this isn’t future hope. This is now, this is breaking through. This is how I cope.”
By the final section: “I’m living between the already and the not yet, I’m walking in the power of the resurrection, I’m claiming the truth that Christ has conquered death, and that changes everything, that changes everything!”
The song explodes with cosmic, otherworldly energy: “Eternity! Eternity! The new world is beginning!”
The Same Truth, Four Languages
Colossians 3:2 invites us to set our minds on eternal things, and promises that this perspective transforms everything. The way we experience this transformation differs:
Baroque celebrates with formal grandeur the revolutionary truth that eternity begins now
Broadway creates communal vision: we enter eternity together, as witnesses to God’s kingdom breaking in
Singer/Songwriter creates personal conviction: I’m choosing to live like I believe the gospel is true, starting today
Alternative Rock creates cosmic explosion: eternity is crashing in, breaking down the old world, creating something radically new
What This Means for Your Life
Here’s the question Colossians 3:2 poses: if you actually believed the gospel was true, how would you live differently?
Would you worry less about things that don’t matter eternally?
Would you love more boldly?
Would you hope more fiercely?
Would you forgive more readily?
Would you live as if you’re part of something cosmic, something eternal, something that matters infinitely?
The baroque version invites you to contemplate, with formal beauty, the radical truth that eternity begins now. What does that mean for you?
The Broadway version invites you to realize that living into God’s kingdom isn’t a solitary endeavor. It’s something we do together, witnessing to each other that eternity is breaking in.
The singer/songwriter version invites you to make a decision: I’m gonna live like I believe it. Starting today.
The alternative rock version invites you into cosmic transcendence: eternity is crashing in, the old world is collapsing, the new world is being born, and you’re part of it.
The Life That Begins Now
Eternity isn’t something we wait for. It’s something we enter into the moment we surrender to Christ and begin living as if His kingdom is real.
And here’s the most beautiful part: the moment we start living like we believe it, we discover it’s actually true.
In 2026, that might mean discovering which version of “Eternity Crashes In” / “I’m Gonna Live Like I Believe It” calls you into genuine transformation.
All four offer the same invitation: stop living like eternity is someday. Start living like eternity is now.
