And my heart is sore.

I met Linford and Karin last night.

How’d that happen?

(They’re lovely.)

When I was in fourth grade, I had the coolest children’s pastors. Though I was only under their ministry for about a year, they greatly influenced my childhood. The husband of the team was the first person to see something of an acting skill in me, and let me do a narration for a short skit—the first speaking role I ever had. He was so enthusiastic about theater for someone who didn’t plan to do it for the rest of his life, and it made me wake up out of my naivety and start looking at acting, as if I hadn’t seen it before. I fell out of contact with them after a couple of years, but today I found them on Facebook.

They’re older now, in their thirties, with adorable adopted children, but I am amazed at what he’s done in the past decade. He is a writer now and has done some recorded voice-over work for fiction (he was always good with this), and now owns his own publishing company.

I’m just at a loss right now. They are so cool.

Last night I dreamt that I was at a country house, all plantation-like with great oaks and white walls. Inside was a little sitting room, and on one wall was my own piano. The lights were low and smoky, giving a golden light, and, positioned with their backs to the piano, some sitting on the bench and the others simply standing, were Chris Thile, Yo-Yo Ma, Stuart Duncan, Edgar Meyer, and Alisa Weilerstein. They played a little set for the people who had gathered to listen to the small house show.

I felt the way I did when I was a young child — small, in awe, and short of breath from the sweet weight of all that is to come.

somberlily:

yes