This Little Light Of Mine

I am helping with bible school this week, which has been really fun so far (albeit very tiring). It just lasts until noon, but I come home exhausted. How are people pregnant subsequent times? Though I intend to find out, I can't imagine doing this again with one or two kids already. Much less more...and while I don't intend to ever know how that works I do have a newfound respect for women who have done it. This morning, I pulled my hair up with a yellow pony tail holder, put on a turquoise maternity top, ivory earrings, jeans, and my powder-blue Chuck Taylor's. I stopped to look at myself in the mirror and thought for a moment that nothing I was wearing matched...then kept right on going. Because it occured to me recently that I don't care. And neither does anyone else. I thought (as I was dancing away to a pumped up version of This Little Light of Mine yesterday) that I am someone different. Sure, I danced with kids before at bible school's and summer camps past...but then I was cooler- a teenager, a college student. More of an older friend to those kids than a grown-up. But I realized at this bible school that to these kids, I am a world apart from the high school students and college students who are also helping. (Even to them I am sort of old!) And right in the middle of This Little Light of Mine, with my crew of kiddos dancing along with me, I realized that was okay. I like not being cool, and it's okay if they think I'm old. Because that means that I can stand on the front row, 8 months pregnant in a mismatched outfit and dance like a dorkwad. Because to these kids...I'm someone they can relate without a front, someone they are comfortable with, someone whose hand they want to hold...because to them- I'm just someone else's Mom.