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I feel like shouting. Like running and feeling the pounding of my heart as the wind catches my hair and my kids stare in amazement as I scream and laugh and defy age and stress and limitation. I feel that dry-mouth anticipation of being in a cage and having someone approach the door. I’m ready to bust out, to explode in living color, and either take everyone with me or leave them gaping at my back as I fly past. Days like this, I know only one speed.

In response to this welling of emotion, I had a carefree day. I had THREE eggs benedict this morning, ’cause after two I’m always wanting “just a little more”. I did TWO shampoo cycles in my hair, just because I like the feel of my soapy hair just before it’s completely rinsed clean. I used hot rollers and wore black because it makes me feel smart and strong, even though that horrid book long ago in childhood said redheads should never wear black; it’s not “thier season”. Hooey. I tipped my chin up when the pastor said “Now stand up and hear the good news!” and I raised my fingers higher as we sang the Gloria Patri.

I kissed him who I love when he didn’t see it coming. I kissed him again just for good measure. We took the kids to the park and He took the long way around, so we could explore Maryville College. We might have been tresspassing…who knows? But we followed the sign that said “House in The Woods” just because it was too intriguing to pass up. Who said great big grown up parents to many littles didn’t still love a bit of semi- dangerous adventure or were too tied down to investigate what’s around that blind bend in the road? At the Greenbelt we kissed some more and reminisced about how the warm day felt like it did when we’d go to the park to play frisbee when we were dating. Right out there in public, as our kids climbed stone walls and splashed in the brook, and threw golded ginko leaves on one another.

Old people powerwalked by and smiled. We ran and laughed some more. We had a Walnut War at the Old Bridge. Dad on one side, the rest of us on the other, meanandering falls inbetween. Walnuts are like black limes and make great bombs. Andrew has a arm on him like a grown man and Wheaton is right behind. David never had to worry about my attempts…I can’t throw in a straight line to save my life. We shreiked and scampered up and down the leaf-covered hills till our lungs stung and the sun started to go down. And then we ran some more.

Dinner was huge Ice Cream sundaes. Yes, you read that right. Chocolate Chip ice cream with sliced bananas and homemade chocolate sauce and whipped cream and cherries on top. I forgot to get graham crackers because we wanted those too; they would have been a groovy addition. I made them in wavy layers in big cups, the one rule being that “everyone must eat every single bit of thier dinner”. When we were done, we all wanted something salty, so I made french fries.

Celia said she would remember this day for the rest of her life. I hope she does. This year I’ve seen a new side of christianity…an adventurous, conquering, victorious side of God that I’d heard talked of but rarely seen. In the bible, when God’s followers experienced this side, they FEASTED. They celebrated! Dancing through the streets (yes, even the grown ups) and shouting and palapable joy. Pounding on their chests and yelling! Jesus himself used his FIRST miracle to make water into fine wine at a feast…the good stuff! Not the watered down koolaid! This was the kind of feasting and celebrating done by none other than a man called “one after God’s own heart”.

I’m gonna bust out of my cage alright. I’m going to investigate what all that feasting was like. I”m going to TASTE a bit of that JOY. I’m going to live out loud and take as many with me as I can. Watch out.

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