With hands clasped and eyes raised to the sky

Coming home tonight after some retail therapy I happened upon NPR's coverage of Obama's acceptance speech. I almost switched to a CD but found the voice and the ideas melting away the ice around my political heart. Pretty soon I was sitting in the garage, engine turned off, because I wanted to hear every word he had to say.

A part of me couldn't believe what was happening -- I'd become jaded, and emotionally "unhooked" from politics and politicians -- but I decided to just go with it. After a while, I made a run for the house and the TV hoping that Carter and/or ONO would be watching it, or that TiVo was catching it. None of that happened but it was all good. The TV broadcast was a few minutes behind the radio.

By the end of the speech I was in tears. I know. Crazy. Those are usually saved for intense spiritual experiences and poop on the floor), but maybe that's why Rush Limbaugh and others are (disdainfully) calling Obama "the messiah."

Of course I don't think of him as the messiah, but I do think I experienced a redemption of sorts -- back, whole-heartedly into the emotional part of the political process.

Even after learning first-hand how incredibly complicated, slow and diluting the political process can be, I find myself half-believing, half-hoping that he'll actually be able to accomplish what he delineated in the speech. I'm mentally pleading with the Power(s) that be -- please, please, PLEASE, let him win! PLEASE let it be different this time! PLEASE let me be proud of my country again!!



But even if the Power(s) ignore me, this speech re-opened the place in my psyche for political hope.

Keep Hope Alive. Because without hope, the people perish.