My house is vibrating. Partly it’s from the shrieking, partly it’s the dancing. It’s shocking how much vibration a pack of middle school girls can create when grouped together in a living room.
Pray for me.
Our Beanie’s celebrating her birthday, which means it’s National Sleepover at the Clemences Day. If you’re in the neighborhood and have a sleeping bag, feel free to stop over. (Unless you’re a creepy stranger, and then I would invite you to have a sleepover in your own living room/jail cell.)
In a few minutes the last two guests will arrive, sending the noise and chaos levels into the stratosphere. The introvert in me is already having a little panic attack, wondering if I’ll fit under my bed where the cat is hiding.
He needs prayer too, probably.
Not only are the last two guests about to arrive, it’s almost time for dessert. This means that in less than thirty minutes I’ll have seven middle school girls who are hyped up on sugar running rampant through my living room, bathroom, closet, kitchen, and yard.
Close your mind around that thought and then switch gears with me. I need to tell you about yesterday when we drove to my hometown to pick up a hot tub from some family friends. We’ve known Ron and Barb so long I don’t ever remember not knowing them. They were my youth group leaders, I babysat their daughters, and Ron lovingly patched my bike back together when I smashed it into a camper about twenty-five years ago.
I haven’t seen them in person in a long time, but they had this hot tub they wanted to get rid of and I happened to want a hot tub. My mother connected the dots for us and we found ourselves with a trailer in their driveway yesterday. While the nice neighbor with a tractor loaded the tub onto the transportation, I chatted with Ron and Barb. They’ve changed very little and I wanted to hug them both around the neck and stay for hours, but I was also a little nervous about getting the hot tub home without it crashing and blowing into a million bits on the freeway.
We left soon after everything was secure, but I spent some time on the ride home remembering the youth events Ron and Barb survived for our benefit. They certainly didn’t want to stay up all night for their own benefit. They listened to us drone on and on about moronic middle school problems, they took us on camping and bike trips, and they didn’t even shoot us and leave us in the woods.
I’m sure that was a constant temptation. Middle schoolers weren’t much different twenty-five years ago. Even then they were hyper and loud and caused a lot of chaos. And they needed adults who were willing to devote time to them so they didn’t wreck their lives.
Which brings us back to the very loud thump I just heard from the basement. It sounds like a thousand hens are chirping down there while trying to break down a wall.
Pray for me, pray for the cat, pray for the house. Pray I can show the same kind of love to them that I received so many years ago.
And pray for youth group leaders everywhere, who are busy staying up all night so our kids have one more layer of love in their lives.
Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God. Similarly, encourage the young men to be self- controlled. In every thing set them an example by doing what is good. (Titus 2:3-7)
P.S. I also need to thank Mr. Bill & Sandy, Dr. Mona & Papa Ruse, Mr. & Mrs. Birkam, Jay & Elaine– thanks so much for spending all that time with us. Who knows where we’d be without you!