Forget about Candles on a Cake. . .
They can never really determine how old your Heart Beats
How old does your Heart Beat?
I know it was a Youth For Christ weeklong event, somewhere in Pennsylvania. . .I was 15 or 16.
It was better than any Church Camp I ever attended or Directed.
It was filled with lots of memories, but none any more powerful than the last night.
It was a Girls vs. Boys Flamingo Football game, on a muddy field and it was intense.
Flamingo Football is when the guys have to do everything by hopping around on one leg while holding the other one by the ankle–like a Flamingo.
The girls had all the advantages and even though they were slipping and sliding all over the place, they at least had two feet to do it; I don’t think they scored all that much, but WE DIDN’T SCORE AT ALL. And they tackled and blocked HARD.
Everyone was covered with mud. . .some bloodied, most covered with bruises we couldn’t see because of the caked mud. It was 60 or so teenagers who became first or second graders not afraid to get dirty.
Muddy. . .all of us. . .we, without getting washed off or changed, were all marched into the cafeteria hall to hear about the lesson of the Mud Sessions. . . .
THE LESSON
actually took place as we were going into the Hall. . . .
The caretaker/owner of the property was holding the door for us as we were walking in. . .with the biggest smile on his face.
He was just as muddy as all of us. . .he was the referee. . .who couldn’t quite keep his feet under him
“Looks like you had a good time, sir. . .”
“The best time ever. . .you kids made me feel young again. . .
and it was better than actually being young the first time around. . . .”
I wish I could tell you that I made a pact with my muddy self right then and there; that promised I would never let the days of my youth slip/slide away into old age. . . .
But. . .but I did RE-Member. . .
And I just put it all back together again recently when I was out playing with my grand-nephew’s and a couple of my granddaughters.
My Heart beat young again
forgetting my Osteoarthritic Knees, my lack of range of motion, my A G E
I remember well how my heart beat that Friday night as a 16 year old mud-caked kid. . .
I remember well how that mud-caked old man smiled young as we walked past him into the dining hall. . .
I remember well how I wanted that moment to be more of a lifestyle than just an idle instant. . .
I remember well how I’ve tried to not only make my heart beat young, but help other hearts to beat just as young AGAIN. . . .
When was the last time you remember your heart beating young?
Q U I C K
Throw me the ball
or better still. . .catch it. . .
and run
or chase
someone to remember again.
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