The night the first FBI bombshell announcement came out we were on our way to a Brahms concert given by a local choir. My anger/distress level was so high at that point, I thought - why am I even here in the quietness of this church. My soul is not ready.
But when the opening strands of music began, they seemed to begin plucking at the knotted chords of my anxiety and loosened them one by one. And my spirit began to lift above the debris of this election season. The exquisite harmony of these voices poured over me. I thought about what a gift these singers gave to me - a gift that took hours and hours of practicing and discipline - and here it was, handed to me, unwrapped but precious as jewels,
And I thought of Brahms and Trump.
Some things endure.
Some wash away with the first rain.
I hope tomorrow we will be washed clean.
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