Praise the Name!

Okay, I just got home from a 'hallelujah party.' Yes, you read that correctly. Hallelujah party. Raise your hands in the air. Basically, that's a fancy name for the ever-popular church fall festival/trunk or treat. I went with Brigid. I was wholly unprepared to walk into mass chaos of hundreds of children tripping over their costumes (aren't little kids' costumes more for the adults than the children anyway?) and rollercoasting up and down on sugar highs and lows. The amount of noise in that room was unbelievable. Furthermore, I wasn't exactly in the majority. In other words, I was the only 25 year-old woman there in the midst of hundreds of married couples and their flocks of children. I thought I enjoyed children. I think I still do actually. Just in very small doses. Like one or two kiddos at a time. It was a rare situation where I thought I just might slip out the side door, hike up my levis, and head for the hills. But, Brigid had a delightful time and I won a tootsie roll pop and a spider ring, so I guess all's well that ends well. Hallelujah.