Something has happened.
Not so long ago, my days were spent in a roomy office surrounded by bright crayon drawings, scraps of fabric, melted down candles, piles of books, a Goodwill couch, handwritten songs, well-intentioned parents, seeking teenagers, and a to-do list as long as the endless Sahara desert.
Youth ministry was my life.
Nine years later, the crayon drawings belong to my three year old son, a shared office necessitated the abandonment of the couch, the songs are fewer, the piles are bigger, and the Sahara desert looks like a breeze compared to my to-do list.
I got married. I had a child. I moved away from my roomy office and seeking teenagers. I began sharing a ministry job with my husband in a new church, in a new town, with new teenagers. I became a mommy again. Then, I turned around.
The hours I poured into ministry as a twenty-two year old are now spent somewhere else. You know, the typical young mother stuff -- endless housework, endless food prep, endless dishes, endless cleaning, small children with big needs . . . the usual.
The glitch is . . . family and youth ministry is also an endless occupation; a bottomless jug requiring tireless energy, bounteous time, and a willing and hopeful spirit.
And I'm at a loss for the answer to the question I can't quite ask.
Something has happened.
Motherhood.
Can ministry survive?
