(From myspace blog)
I found out recently that my whole life is about hope-- I thrive on the stuff. Hope is what gets me through the day, having the promise of something good hanging over my head. Thus, I never really live in the moment because I'm always anticipating something else. And when these good things happen, these things I hope for, it's a surreal and quick experience. Like all this build up and then suddenly *poof*, it's over, and I have to find a new outlet for my hope.
A very pregnant singer performed today at church. She sounded like she could have been in an opera, with a sweet voice that boomed throughout the sanctuary. I wasn't so much moved by her words, but her performance-- she was full of so much love. I liked watching her when she wasn't singing, when she was sitting in the pews next to the altar listening to the pastors, unaware of being under someone's gaze (unlike when she performed and could probably feel the whole of the congregation's attention on her). I noticed she had a tissue, and would dab at her eyes. It was one of the most beautiful moments I have ever seen.
A very pregnant singer performed today at church. She sounded like she could have been in an opera, with a sweet voice that boomed throughout the sanctuary. I wasn't so much moved by her words, but her performance-- she was full of so much love. I liked watching her when she wasn't singing, when she was sitting in the pews next to the altar listening to the pastors, unaware of being under someone's gaze (unlike when she performed and could probably feel the whole of the congregation's attention on her). I noticed she had a tissue, and would dab at her eyes. It was one of the most beautiful moments I have ever seen.