I hate that I have to be cautious...

I was just hanging up the phone after a conversation with my mom, rounding the corner into my living room. I looked to the front door and saw a black sweatshirt hood in the window of my front door. I usually have the curtain down, but had pulled it up to let some sunshine in today...of course, it was dark now, so I could not see who it was. I assumed it was one of the kids, although the person seemed too tall. Three siblings showed up a few months ago and tried to scare me by knocking on my door and covering their faces completely with their hoods. Needless to say, their giggles gave them away. Tonight, though, it was not one of them.

The man had jumpy eyes...my guess is that he was using. He was looking for a man who lived here who used to help him out with food sometimes when he was hungry. I let him know that the guy (if it was even the same one!) moved out a year and a half ago. He asked if I had some money I could give him to get something to eat. I let him know that I didn't have any cash and that I was sorry. He left.

I don't have a lot of food in my house right now, but I did have a pack of peanuts and some crackers I could've given him. I just didn't feel comfortable opening the door. We were speaking through the door, so we both had to be close to hear one another, but he was pushed extremely close. Having the suspicion that he was using made me even less willing to open it. It's not that I think he would have tried to harm me, but it would have been VERY easy for him too.

All that to say, I hate that I could have helped, and didn't. I hate that I have to be cautious. I hate that I have to worry about protecting myself. I wish that it was as easy as opening the door, inviting him in and sharing a meal. But as a single woman, that's just not an option.
I trust that God will provide food for him. I know that his provision does not rely on me. I just hate that the world is broken to the point that I feel like I have to fear people.

Why do you go to Hooters?

Our neighborhood dance team had a recital a few weeks ago and I was in charge of the boys who came to volunteer. I had about 6 or 7 middle school boys. We had a blast. The boys are a lot of fun to work with -- they may be knuckleheads sometimes, but in general, they're pretty drama free.

Anyhow, after the recital, I loaded the boys up in the church van to take them home. On the way to drop one of the boys off, we passed a Hooters. What followed cracked me up!

MS Boy #1: HOOTERS!!!!!!
MS Boy #2: Oh, Miss Dayna! We want to go to Hooters!! (all the boys joined in at this point)
Me: You have got to be kidding me! There's no WAY I'm going to take you to Hooters. Y'all must be crazy!
MS Boy #1: CHICKEN WINGS!!!
Me: Really?! Now I KNOW you don't want to go for the wings!
MS Boy #3 (the youngest one in the van): No, we want to go for the chicken BREAST!
Me: Wow...that was a good one, but I'm still not takin' ya!


It's terrible, I know, but oh so witty! They had me rolling!