Before the charts and the stages, there were just three sisters, a living room, and a faith that needed a voice — growing up in Elgin, Illinois.
BarlowGirl — Rebecca, Alyssa, and Lauren — grew up making music the way most people learn conversation: naturally, together. They started in churches and youth events, not chasing careers, just serving with what they had.
What set them apart was unity — three voices, one heart — and the fact that they’re great musicians who truly rock. Drums, bass, guitars, keys, harmonies… real grit, real skill, real sound — not just message.
When they stepped onto bigger stages, they never lost that core. No image games. No shortcuts. Just faith, honesty, and rock-solid music.
If you’re new to BarlowGirl, you’re not discovering a band — you’re meeting a family who turned worship into rock and conviction into legacy.
I’ve got two live acoustic studio versions of these songs for you today…
🎵 Never Alone (2004) — BarlowGirl
🎵 Beautiful Ending (2009) — Love & War
I hope you have a blessed Sunday.
…….🗣️❓🏁✨❓✨✨❓🧍♂️➡️🫵❤️✨✨…🏁🤗🫵🤗’…
The blonde girl is Lauren… she plays drums… but not today lol
The song begins at 1:33 mark 👇
…
Deuteronomy 33:27 (NIV)
“The eternal God is your refuge… and underneath are the everlasting arms…”
It was the summer of 1995… I was 21… going through much… trying to figure life out…
I’d just moved in with a guy I worked with… only been there a few weeks… it was the weekend… I’d been out late hanging with my friends…
when I finally came home… I headed down the hall toward my bedroom…
As I got closer… I could hear a guitar playing… a girl singing… the sound was coming from my room…
I was like wth!?…
I opened my door…
There on my bed… a black-haired girl I had never seen before… strumming my guitar… singing… completely lost in it… like she owned the night… no curfew in sight…
she wasn’t wearing any clothes… my brain just blue-screened…
I was frozen… my tongue super stuck…
she looks at me… with friendly eyes… smiles and says Hey
“your roommate said it was ok…”
Her name was Rachel… she and I became friends… we often jammed together…
she was a part-time exotic dancer… aka… a stripper…
my roommate was dating her friend… so many nights… she and her friends… plural… ended up at my house…
but she never wanted to hang out with the rest of them… she just wanted to chill… sing songs… play guitar…
She was a great musician… had a great voice… music was her dream…
Many times I’d come home late find her in my room… doing her thing…
I’d grab my other guitar… and we’d play for hours…
I had a small recording studio we’d lay down tracks… we recorded all kinds of covers… had these freestyle… ad-lib jam sessions… just chasing whatever sound showed up…
It was definitely a crazy summer… but also kind of holy in its own way…
it’s beautiful how musicians can come together and bond… doesn’t matter who or what you are… your background or anything…
musicians and artists just immediately have that thing. that links us… that invisible wire… heart to heart… song to song…
what I remember most those nights… isn’t the chaos…
it’s the music…
two guitars… chasing songs in the middle of the night… letting the sound carry through a messy season of life…
…
I did much praying that summer…
cryin’ out in the night…
sometimes with words… sometimes with songs…
finding healing…
wherever I could…
..
Oh yeah I might be crazy… But that’s not the same as insane… And I’m scared… But that’s not the same as being afraid…
I’ve got two lottery stories. Here’s the first—one that’s stuck with me for years.
Back when I used to work delivering top-grade fruits and vegetables to restaurants all over Atlanta, one of the guys I worked with told me this story about his aunt and uncle up in Michigan. They were the kind of folks who played the lottery religiously—same numbers every week, knew them by heart. His uncle worked construction, his aunt stayed home.
One day, the uncle was on the job, radio on in the background, when the lottery numbers came up. One by one, he heard them read off… and they were his numbers. Every single one. He stood there frozen, trying to grasp it—he was a millionaire, just like that. He felt like Jed Clampett, like George Jefferson—about to “move on up,” as they say. He couldn’t believe it—after all that time, the numbers finally hit.
Trembling, he grabbed his phone and called home. His wife answered. He could barely get the words out—“Honey, we won. We won!” You can imagine that rush of joy, disbelief, tears, laughter—the whole spectrum of emotions hitting at once.
When they finally calmed down, he asked her, “Where’s the ticket?”
Silence.
She didn’t know. Couldn’t remember. They searched every corner of that house—you name it: drawers, kitchen counters, coat pockets, even the trash—but the ticket was gone.
Never turned up.
It was a multimillion jackpot—ten million or more, my coworker said. They never recovered from it. They ended up divorcing. He drank himself into an early grave; she lost her mind and eventually wound up in a mental hospital.
I’ll never forget that story. They were just one missing ticket away from a whole new life. Makes you realize how thin the line is between winning big and losing everything…
…
…
The second story’s a little different—it’s about the strange brush I had with the lottery once.
I don’t normally play. Honestly, it had probably been ten years since the last time I bought a ticket. But one day, these numbers just popped into my head out of nowhere. They felt… random, but not really. So I scribbled them down and thought, why not? Maybe I’m supposed to play these.
That evening, I bought a ticket for the Fantasy Five drawing. Later that night, I sat down in front of the TV, ticket in hand, heart doing that nervous little dance while I waited for the numbers to roll out.
The first one—bam. I had it. The second—got it. The third—hit again. The fourth—yes! Four in a row.
Now it all came down to the last number. If it hit, I’d be holding a ticket worth half a million dollars. I was right there on the edge of my seat, waiting… the winning number flashed on the screen—29.
I looked down. Mine said 30.
Missed it by one digit. Just one.
Still, four out of five wasn’t bad—I got a hundred bucks out of it. Not life-changing, but it sure made for a good story.
Funny how luck works, isn’t it? One number can mean the difference between a payday and just another story before bed…
So I guess if there’s any moral here, it’s this—don’t store your hopes and dreams in things that can be lost… store them where they’re eternal — that’s where the true jackpot is waiting…
Matthew 13:44 (NIV) “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field…”
alone out there… just meat… just prey… I feed my two wolves… one red… one grey… the fence a lie… just meet… just pray… away my two wolves… one red… one gray…
I was in a backyard— fenced in… familiar… from childhood…
I felt younger… In a place that remembered me…
Still— I climbed the fence…
On the other side— the woods waited… too close for comfort…
Then the red wolf came—
Big… Hungry… All teeth and motion…
No hesitation— just intent…
I barely made it back over the fence— It stopped there… snarling… growling… measuring the distance…
Then it faded… back into the trees…
Silence pressed in…
I climbed again— slower this time… Quieter… Tiptoeing…
The gray wolf appeared—
Not loud… Not rushed… Focused…
It ran at me— closing the gap…
I reached the top of the fence— just in time…
It stood there— head tilted… eyes steady— as if I was already chosen… as if I was meat…
Since I was a little boy—with flaming red hair—a face full of freckles—I have always been a dreamer… As life’s bullet train has sped through my night… my freckles have faded… blended… my hair has darkened from that fiery red—to something older… But my dreams… They have never faded… They are still alive…
Sleep is not rest for me— It is assignment… It is battlefield… When I close my eyes at night— I am not drifting off… I am clocking in… For a fight…
Since childhood—storms call my name… Not gently… But roaring… spinning… Tearing open my sky… Hurricanes… tornadoes… I have stood in both—right in the heart of them—more than once… They do not push me back… They pull me in… I do not run from storms— I run toward them… I am a storm chaser…
Yet in my dreams—the rules reverse…
In my dreams—the storms chase me…
For fifty years—I have had the same recurring dream… Hundreds of times… Tornado dreams… Always different… yet always the same… Tornadoes spinning on every horizon… Coming for me… Hunting me… Running me down… They never quite catch me— But they drive me forward… They harden my legs… They make me stronger…
Yet…
It would be great just to rest sometimes… Catch a break in my night… Lay down my sword… Take off my armor… No courage… No strength… Just sleep… Just sleep… Just sleep…
Heart of Loia `'.,°~ 