Last night, I had a rotten night of sleep. My son's legs hurt. I put him in bed with us, and he commenced to spinning around so that his butt and feet were right in my face. He fights the covers, so every time he thought he had covers on, I got pummeled by size 5 feet. Not cool.
Tomorrow night, I'll be sleeping on a church floor with countless teenage girls. I'm not looking forward to the comforts of a sleeping bag. But, hey! At least none of the girls will be kicking me in my face. At least, I hope not.
Twenty-seven hours of screaming teenagers, blasting music, and intense church services. I haven't been to one of these since I was teenager myself. So how did I get to the point that I am going now...and I'm the responsible grown up? That makes me feel old...
But it will be fun. My youth group is new. They are all learning to get to know each other, pray for each other, and work together. What a better way to start it off than by going away to a teen conference? I'm just crossing my fingers that it all goes smoothly. I'm crossing my fingers that my children don't kick my parents in their heads while sleeping. I'm crossing my fingers that I get other parent's children home and safe and sound. And most of all, I'm crossing my fingers that the teenagers come back with a new flame that cannot be extinguished.
Well, not crossing my prayers, actually. More like praying.