This summer a series of our church sermons were titled "Summer Joy!" Our minister reminded us that sometimes joy comes from doing things differently or daring to do something we hadn't done before or at least for a long time! Since we had had early worship services near our local lake for eight weeks, he dared those of us in attedance at the last service to "jump into the lake" following the services.........clothes and all.

Several of us "jumped" in. Some completely wet. Some up to our knees. Not your normal church services.

Here is a "Chicken Soup for the Soul" I received a couple of days ago. Not your normal gal, celebrating her birthday, ordinarily...........

The Birthday Tiara
By Deborah M. Ritz

For my thirtieth birthday, I threw myself a soiree to
celebrate. My friend Sarah arrived early, sat me down and
handed me a white cake box. A crown drawn in gold ink
decorated the top. My heart leapt. After all, this was
from Sarah, someone who gave the most meaningful gifts.

I peeled back the lid. Nestled amidst star-splattered
tissue paper was my very own crown. Brightly colored
candles sprouted from a framework of iridescent pipe
cleaners.

"It's a birthday tiara," said Sarah. "And you have to
wear it."

I laughed. She knew I needed permission.

And so, for one night, I felt like a celebrity
surrounded by adoring fans. But after the festivities, I
packed up my treasure and stowed it away. I'd had my night
of stardom.

Several years later, I remembered my tiara. I decided
to display it amidst the children's books in my study.
Glancing up from my computer, I'd notice it and smile.

Then came another birthday. My thirty-fourth. They
were all beginning to feel the same. After I opened my
gifts from my husband John, I told myself, 'This will just
be a nice day.'

I said my morning prayers. Sitting up from where I
had reclined on the rug, I spied the crown. 'Should I?' I
thought. 'No. That's silly.'

But then I heard a louder voice. 'John's gone to work
. . . I'm home alone . . .Why not?'
I plunked it on my head. Chuckling, I smiled ear to
ear. I felt lighthearted as I got ready for work, like I'd
been zapped with a tiny current of energy and joy. Was
that me twirling around the kitchen?

Singing goodbye to the kitties, I grabbed my car keys
and purse. Then a voice in my head yelled, 'Stop! You're
not wearing that out, are you?'

I froze. What would people think? I must be nuts.
'But wait,' said the new, fun-loving me. 'It'll be an
experiment. To see how many motorists notice.'

I was bitterly disappointed when not a soul looked my
way during my commute. 'Now what?' I thought, sitting in
the parking lot at work. 'Do I wear it in?'

Stares of disbelief greeted me at the museum staff
entrance. The security supervisor trailed me, a grin on
his face. He pummeled me with questions like, "What is
that thing? Does it light up? How old are you?" I
answered the first two and ignored the third.

My female colleagues embraced my new look. "I love
it," they exclaimed, showering me with accolades. "You
have to wear it for your school group."

I met the fourth-graders from Fairfax and immediately
addressed a few open mouths and wide eyes. "Does anyone
know why I'm wearing this?"

A hand shot up. "You wanna look silly?" blurted out a
youngster.

A chorus of giggles met my feigned hurt look.
Another student, as if to make amends for his rude
classmate, asked if they could sing that "Happy Birthday
song" to me.

"At the end of the tour," I promised, tickled.
Walking next door to meet my friend Brittney for
lunch, I thought about my headpiece. 'It's really like a
hat,' I rationalized. 'Hey! I can wear those now!' I'd
always been envious of the stylish creations worn by older
women at church.

I shared with Brittney what I'd observed so far.
"Women congratulate me. I think they all secretly long to
wear one. Children stare or ignore it. They're the most
polite. Men try and guess my age, then ask, 'Does it light
up?' I'm getting sick of that one. Guys and their toys!"
"It's lit from within," said Brittney. Girls are so
gushy.

My tiara slipped off that afternoon. I insisted my
stylist wear it while she cut my hair.
"You don't need it, Miriam," teased her boss. "You
already think you're a queen."

By the time I drove to meet my husband at his office,
I'd practically forgotten what was on my head. But he
noticed.

"You've worn that all day?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yup," I replied. "And I'm not taking it off now."

He threatened to bail out on our evening together, but
I was armed. "It's my birthday. One day out of 365."
He knew he was beat.

At the restaurant I was greeted with the typical
responses I'd heard all day. Except for one. En route to
the restroom, a very vocal woman shouted at me, "When you
gonna light your candles?"

"I can't," I told her, amused. "They're plastic."
Her face fell in disappointment.
It was after midnight when I finally returned my tiara
to its spot on the bookcase. Another birthday had come and
gone. But a very different one. Why? Because I had made
it so. I had risked. Tiptoeing at first, tempted to turn
back, I had ventured beyond the safe and secure. I'd found
courage within myself. As one friend remarked, I was
"gutsy and glorious." And this was only the start.

****

As adults most of us get the "rights and responsibilities" thing down pretty well. That's good! But who says we can't act like children now and then and just have a good time!! Go for it!!!