I remember a few years ago being very irritated with a neighbor boy who felt free to barge into our house, complain about our food, and play for hours in our yard without so much as letting us know he was there. I remember wondering what in the world was going on next door that he was so unsupervised. I’m sure I felt I was the “superior” mother hen, keeping my little chicks safe and sound and off the streets, etc. I remember literally cringing when I saw his little chubby body through the peep hole in my door.
Well, shame on me.
I recently had a conversation with a mom struggling through something similar and I saw myself in her hostile, uppity complaining.
Muddied floors, grabby hands, loud inappropriate comments…
Trivial. The souls of young individuals left to fend for themselves, untrained in the ways of the more bless-ed, storming into shelter with all their tender, rough edges exposed for all to see-
Where are the parents? Neglectful. Maybe. Working to try to keep shelter and food a reality. More likely.
If we (the blessed, the present, the concerned for the next generation, the follows of Jesus) don’t open our doors to them and love them, who will? Can’t we take a little time to shape, correct, love, feed, encourage, listen? Can’t we let them mess up our lives just a little?
Very Humbled Mommy