a pair of paragraphs, full of run-on sentences, that capture some essense of memories I came across lately:
I remember one Sunday morning a number of months ago when I went to church with my family, and my hyperactive 4-year old son was being so hyperactive and just-like-me-at-that-age that all I got out of the 45-minute praise and worship portion of our service was about 2 minutes of peace during a quiet song, when Collin settled down and just sat quietly with me, and that 2 minutes made the entire rest of that week easier. I remember being amazed at how aware I was that God had blessed me with that one little interlude of peace. I remember sitting there while most of the congregation around me stood, singing slowly and quietly, and Collin and I just held onto one another.
I remember sitting in my friend Harrison’s living room on a January evening when his house had lost power (but a day or two before a good part of it was destroyed by a burst pipe) watching flashpapr transfix the room of twenty or so people who were gathered to listen to their music. I remember being transported to a warm summer evening, riding the bus next to the girl I love and feeling so happy and alive and joyful, all from hearing Fred Thomas sing “you are my best friend, you are the most beautiful friend I keep inside my heart…”. I remember thinking to myself that you could tell that it was going to be a magical evening almost as soon as it had started.