By the time you get this issue of Release and read (if you do read) this little essay of mine, I will have celebrated my fortieth birthday.  In my mid- to late-twenties, I had some romantic, highly exaggerated notions about an early death – taking off at thirty-three – joining the company of Mozart, Foster, Jesus, and other immortals who checked out in their early thirties.  But this was a party I didn’t get an invitation to – a gang I didn’t belong in (me not being a genius and all).  So, in Chicago I had my own party – celebrating the fun of being alive as opposed to the mystique of having an untimely death.

- Rich Mullins,killed in a car crash at 41 years old

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9PG20Auul1M

But when I leave I want to go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars
It’ll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won’t break my heart to say goodbye.