Around here, Mondays mean that a handful of teenaged girls from the neighborhood are coming for a few hours of girl talk and all around foolishness and I am the resident mama managing the chaos. Sometimes, Jesus smiles upon me and sends a college girl to help me out on Mondays, but for the most part, it’s just little ol’ me.
I must tell you that although I have two teenaged daughters, teenage foolishness and conversation is not my jam. A house full of people who smell funny and act funny and look funny give me the willies. And when the peals of laughter reach a certain decibel, my eyes cross and I have to fight the urge to want to lose it. Lame, huh? I know.
But, hey, we’re all in process and so on Mondays, I put on my big girl panties and take a deep breath and fling open the front door, right at 2pm…and I wait…because no one is ever, ever on time.
And I use those few extra minutes to give Jesus my nub of a heart.
Jesus help me to see these girls as your beloved children. Help me to be patient and kind and loving. Help me to know what to say when their stories make my head roll and my heart ache. And help me to want to enter in and stay.
Also, if you missed out on the fun yesterday, here’s the link!