Ten Girls

While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

—Luke 15:20

Years ago, I began leading a small group of ten girls. They were a blur of bright tank tops, flat-ironed hair, and Birkenstock clogs, and I always felt like I was in the middle of a tornado or a high-speed chase.

I didn’t actually intend to be their small group leader. I worked on the student staff, and we were short on volunteer leaders for a retreat. I said I could take a group, just for the weekend. Somehow, it was communicated to the girls that I would be their leader forever and ever, and when they found out, they pounced on me and hugged me and jumped up and down, and I didn’t have the heart to say that I had really only agreed to love them for the weekend.

We started meeting every week. They called at all hours of the night and day, and stopped over at my house and my office constantly, and apparently never had anywhere else to be after their visit. They sometimes got so excited to see me that when they hugged me, they knocked me down, even though it was never more than five days since I’d seen them last.