from the river . . . 10/12/92 One of the choirs went to New Orleans today to do the music

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from the river . . . 10/12/92 One of the choirs went to New Orleans today to do the music for one of the sisters (at the Center) anniversary. It was a beautiful day, cool and sunny, and while sitting in the church of Paris street there, this large expansive 60's style modernist sanctuary with the sun coming in through the skylights they were so fond of (those modernist '60's church architects ) and looking across the piano (a piano from purgatory if not hell, a old old spinet, with a really high overly bright sound like hammers hitting an anvil incessantly) and though there was no reason for it I had this feeling of incredible rightness about the whole thing, about having coming down a long stream of time with that keyboard, or another of many like it, in front of me to play and people sitting there to listen in many another place at many another time, but here I was at this place and this time and it was just where I was supposed to be, had been meant to be all along with all these young people around me singing while I played, like it was the whole point of having been born, and I realized yet again that each single moment is the whole point of having been born but that it is only on special moments that we realize that, And the sun kept streaming in through those '60's style sunlights, and the piano kept on being from purgatory but I made friends with it anyway and sang with it like I was supposed to do, and the choir sang like they were meant to do, and the sister celebrated her anniversary of marriage to God like she was suppose to do, and it was one of those special ordinary moments--like waking up sober after a drinking dream--an epiphany if you will l, and I felt really old in experience but really young in years, and I thought I had better get it down, write it down to capture it, this little event where the Word came through yet again. from the river by Jim Smitherman, Baker LA.


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