Sunday, November 6, 2011
There is a church in Old Town that I pass on my way to work. On Sunday mornings, I see distinguished gentlemen in tailored suits laughing and waving and clapping each other on the back. Military men in full dress uniforms, medals gleaming in the morning sun. And shining women with smiles as big as their hats.
I want to join them! I want to be them.
And I know without knowing that if the light would only wait thirty minutes or so before turning green, I would hear the most glorious songs of angels spilling out of that little church ...
And I, too, would raise my hands to heaven.