Under Age Youth Worker

Danny is back from Boston! I don't have to kill any more cockroaches! I am so thrilled. However, now that Danny's home - all the roaches have gone into hiding. They must just get a kick out of making me scream.

Danny is now back to working out of his downtown, CityYear office - pictured on the left. It's quite the posh place to park oneself all day. (Try saying that three times fast!)

On a random tangent, we've started teaching 9th grade Sunday School at Shandon, and will also have a 9th grade, co-ed, discipleship group over to our apartment every Sunday night starting in September.

Just a funny story that I need to record for my own sake, because one day I will read this and remember the "good old days."

I have a history of looking younger than I really am. It's the lookeus like a babeosis syndrome.

Waiters gave me the children's menu until I was 20.

Parents couldn't pick me out as the counselor amongst my cabin of 8th grade campers at Pine Cove.

In 2004, the year I graduated from Texas A&M (WHOOP!), upon telling people that I was a senior, they promptly asked where I was going to high school.

My brother graduated from high school in May - and guess who people thought the graduate was? Yes, me.

I use to walk around WAVING my Aggie ring in people's faces. Now I just hold out my left hand any time I meet someone new.

So, all this to say, that before Danny and I committed to teaching youth Sunday School, we were invited to sit in and observe the 9th & 10th grade class. We walked in together. Danny sat at the guys table and immediately hit it off with the leader and the boys.

I proceed to sit at the girls table - where (uncharacteristically) NO ONE WAS SAYING A WORD. I attempted to make small talk, to no avail. Finally, an adult female leader came over and introduced herself. We talked for a little while and then she handed me a visitors form.

WHAT?!

She thought I was a visiting teeny bopper. Someone please take me shopping and dress me like an adult. Cut my hair. Anything!

One day when I start having babies they aren't going to let me take them home from the hospital - where's the mom, they'll want to know.

So, here it is for all posterity. When, I am old and look my age. When the wrinkles have sagged whatever it is that keeps me looking 12 years old. When I wish I looked younger. I will come back here and read about the day I could have passed as a high school cheerleader for Halloween.