A Gift from the Heart: Why I Finally Shared My Song
At one point in my life, I made a decision: the gifts I gave needed to be personal. That’s why I like to craft so many gifts. I wouldn’t say gift-giving is my love language, but I’ve always had a deep appreciation for those moments when you find something and think, “Oh, this is perfect for my dad.” You know the kind of gift that just screams someone’s name? That’s the kind of gift I live for — something unique, meaningful, and often only understood by that one special person.
That’s what this recording project was.
It was a gift for my dad.
It didn’t need to be liked, shared, or even understood by anyone else. Because I knew what it meant. I knew how much it would mean to him.
I spent so much of my childhood singing — in choirs, in the car, in the shower, or alone in my room when no one was home. Later in life, those moments turned into lots of at home karaoke nights, or sitting out on the back porch, listening to show tunes with a beer in hand, but either way it was always with my dad. My dad was never one to overly praise talent, but he always pushed me to improve. It wasn’t harsh — it was just his way. He instilled a “never settle, always keep improving” mindset in me, and for that, I’m grateful. But it also brought out a little perfectionism. If something didn’t feel perfect, I didn’t want to share it, I struggle to complete things, or I end up waiting too long that I find myself losing that feeling of passion and motivation. I’m still working on healing those actions and emotions.
Because we should be able to feel proud of our accomplishments, even if they’re just for us.
So no, I didn’t post this recording right away. I didn’t even tell friends or family I had made it.
Because this wasn’t for them.
It was a wedding gift. For my dad. And for my husband.
The idea came to me in the most unexpected way — like most special ideas do. One day, a song came on the radio and it just hit me: This is the one. I had grown up near the Chicago area, so naturally, we were Cubs fans. My husband? A lifelong Cardinals fan from STL. We actually have a sign that says “A House Divided.” There’s something fun and lighthearted about our little sports rivalry, and that got me thinking about the lyrics in Megan Moroney’s Tennessee Orange and how they could be reimagined for us.
Suddenly, it all clicked.
The lyrics.
The melody.
The meaning.
And once I had the idea in my head, I went all in. That’s just how I am. I struggle with follow-through sometimes, but not this time. I was determined to finish. I started googling voice lesson studios, searching for recording apps, local music schools — just looking for a place to start. And that’s when I found Gabrielle.
I reached out with no small talk — just straight to the point. “Can you help me do this?”
She said yes.
And over the next few weeks leading up to my wedding, Gabrielle and I worked together to bring this idea to life. I recorded the song and gifted it to my dad during our first look. It became the song we danced to for our father-daughter dance.
No one else knew.
Not even my husband.
Even when the DJ gave a subtle heads-up — something like, “Listen closely to the words and voice, it might sound familiar,” — I kept my secret. As I danced with my dad, I looked over at my husband. And when I saw the smile on his face, I knew he recognized it was me.
It was one of the proudest moments of my life.
Singing is something I’ve always wanted to pursue. I don’t know what it’ll lead to — maybe nothing. But for the first time, I allowed myself to feel proud of something I created, just because it meant something to me. One year later, I think I’m finally ready to take the next step in my healing journey and share this piece of my heart with the world.
Since then, I’ve continued working with Gabrielle’s School of Music, and I’m excited to see where this path might take me.
If you’re in or around the STL area and interested in vocal training, technique development, or performance artistry, I highly recommend Gabrielle and her team. She helped me turn a simple idea into something unforgettable.
And if there’s something you’ve been holding onto — something you’re proud of but afraid to share — let this be your sign: it’s okay to be proud. It’s okay to share your gifts. Even if they’re just for you, they matter.
Here is my cover of Tennessee Orange by Megan Mooney - “Cardinal Red”:
Tennessee Orange - Megan Moroney Cover | Gabrielle Studio Of Music
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