i am so glad he is president i have a lot oh hope and faith in him i never really liked politics till he ran i love his speeches and i think he is going to do a great job
What a day! What a collection of amazing moments. What an overwhelming time of joy and renewal. This day has been one where I sit with my small baby daughter and stare at the television all day long, trying to understand why I am crying so ceaselessly. Yes, tears of joy. And also tears of sorrow. I never knew how closed off and cynical I had become until this beaming man with incredible integrity and purpose entered our public consciousness. His light, and hope and belief in the goodness of America. Of all people. His hope and belief has inspired me and stripped me to the core and made me feel things I had forgotten I was missing. This new heart, ripped open, bows in gratitude to the mercy given by the trampled countless ancestors whose purpose let hope live. This heart has to re-orient and learn anew how to trust. To belive. To feel. When I was born they had already killed the heroes of the generation that birthed me. JFK, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Gandi. At 8 years old I struggled to understand why my mother cried so hard when John Lennon was killed and what it meant when lost souls shot President Reagan and the Pope. There were movies and songs about Charles Manson and Helter Skelter. That sweet beautiful Sharon tate with her living child murdered before her eyes. How could I keep an open heart in this world? How could I hope? How could I believe. A deep belief was born that there was no safety or truth in this world of men, the most I could do was survive. Generation X, my generation are careful and guarded with our children. Slow to trust, but deeply in love with the purity and endless promise of our children, we put our hearts into them, and shelter and shield and educate and fight for them with all that we have. So today, as I cried with my four month old baby daughter in my arms I prayed, and I prayed hard, that this good man would live. That my daughters would only know this kind of world. That hope and joy and promise would be there birthright and their continual experience. I cried for the hope of the future and the sadness for all that was lost before I was even born. I had to cry for those who went before, and for those who belived and made this good, true man, and his strong, brave, brilliant wife possible. Change has come to America. I know this is true because, at last, change has come to me.
5 Comments
I had initially like Ron Paul and his call for change. But after listening to Barack Obama speak I am starting to think he is the real deal.
Hope, indeed.
By the way, beautiful site.
Hope but no faith.
i am so glad he is president i have a lot oh hope and faith in him i never really liked politics till he ran i love his speeches and i think he is going to do a great job
What a day! What a collection of amazing moments. What an overwhelming time of joy and renewal. This day has been one where I sit with my small baby daughter and stare at the television all day long, trying to understand why I am crying so ceaselessly. Yes, tears of joy. And also tears of sorrow. I never knew how closed off and cynical I had become until this beaming man with incredible integrity and purpose entered our public consciousness. His light, and hope and belief in the goodness of America. Of all people. His hope and belief has inspired me and stripped me to the core and made me feel things I had forgotten I was missing. This new heart, ripped open, bows in gratitude to the mercy given by the trampled countless ancestors whose purpose let hope live. This heart has to re-orient and learn anew how to trust. To belive. To feel. When I was born they had already killed the heroes of the generation that birthed me. JFK, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Gandi. At 8 years old I struggled to understand why my mother cried so hard when John Lennon was killed and what it meant when lost souls shot President Reagan and the Pope. There were movies and songs about Charles Manson and Helter Skelter. That sweet beautiful Sharon tate with her living child murdered before her eyes. How could I keep an open heart in this world? How could I hope? How could I believe. A deep belief was born that there was no safety or truth in this world of men, the most I could do was survive. Generation X, my generation are careful and guarded with our children. Slow to trust, but deeply in love with the purity and endless promise of our children, we put our hearts into them, and shelter and shield and educate and fight for them with all that we have. So today, as I cried with my four month old baby daughter in my arms I prayed, and I prayed hard, that this good man would live. That my daughters would only know this kind of world. That hope and joy and promise would be there birthright and their continual experience. I cried for the hope of the future and the sadness for all that was lost before I was even born. I had to cry for those who went before, and for those who belived and made this good, true man, and his strong, brave, brilliant wife possible. Change has come to America. I know this is true because, at last, change has come to me.