Hallelujah.

Don’t you love it when you hear lyrics and it makes things click into place for you on a really personal level? I’ve always loved some good imagery when it comes to the books I’m reading and the music I’m listening to. It’s real artistry to create a picture with words – and also with paint but we’re not talking about that right now…

A regular in rotation in The Adams’ Abode is Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” Autumn and I are partial to Rufus Wainwright’s rendition with 1500 singers (choir! choir! choir!) Either way, everything about it is the most perfect recipe for goosebumps and sometimes some tears – what?! Yeah, 9 times out of 10 I cry when I hear it and if Autumn feels the urge to do some of her interpretive dance routines you might as well call the coroner because I’ll just be dead.

There’s a line that says, “Love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah…” I love that. Love is not the end of the hard work. It’s the start. You don’t find or win love and then stop having your heart broken. Being in love means letting someone fix the breaks, sometimes after they cause them. That’s kind of the prize. Having someone to trust enough to do that if it happens.

love is not a victory march

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