maybe.
"Oh, you can't sleep at night and you sure wonder why...
Maybe God is trying to tell you something..."
Right now, I'm listening to a the Mississippi Mass Choir sing -- sing that slow, sweet, graceful part of the classic gospel song that soothes you right before it explodes into feverish call-and-response -- and then those notes! My goodness!
The ones you can't imagine ever having enough air in your lungs or goodness in your heart to sing, but there they are, and yes, you're crying and feeling the spirit and raising your hands and who would you be to do otherwise?
Yeah.
It's that kind of a song, and it's that kind of a day -- the kind of day where I needed to feel something unmundane and sincere and real and ferocious.
And here -- in my headphones, in my pyjamas, at my great-grandmother's writing desk, clacking away at the broken laptop, looking for all the world like any other 31 year-old woman on earth with tired eyes, the beginnings of a cold, and a lot of deadlines at work -- here I am with all the tears and smiles of someone who is fully aware there are big things in life yet to do.
Moments left to have, complete with passion and giddy laughter and hair standing up on the back of my neck.
People yet to know, with all their craziness and dilemmas and expectations.
Places yet to go, with sights that will leave me silent, agape with delight and wonder.
Conversations left to have, with big words and big plans and big dreams.
Intimacies yet to build, with truth, and patience, and grace.
No maybe about it.
I hear these voices and the possibility of almost anything seems as real as it ever has been.
I measure hope in goosebumps nowadays, when I am mindful enough to look past the details of the day, and deeper into what just might be.
8:50:40 PM 
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