That was the thought that sparked me on my way home from rehearsal.
God loves me more than I love making music.
Rehearsal was awesome. It was one of those all-too-rare moments where making music is just pure joy and bliss. I've experienced it probably four or five times so far in my life, and every time it is both unexpected and lasts long after the last note sounds.
God loves me more than I love making music.
How. . . why. . . I can't even begin to fathom. It just. . . I don't know. Equal parts wonderful in how deep that means and shame in knowing I don't reciprocate that love.
And as I begin to think, this comes on my car radio (well, CD player actually):
And that's all that I can('t?) say right now.
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