BSF

Last spring, I contacted the class administrator for the BSF class here.  I'd missed the welcome class by one week. 

Not that I probably would've been able to find someone to babysit three kids during the day.

So, if I wanted to do BSF again this year, I had to go to the fall welcome class.

Taylor agreed to babysit the boys, since there's no childcare the first week.

I made sure, after she didn't show up to babysit the last time she said she would, that I texted her two days before to remind her.

So I drove off to BSF, Bible and address in hand. 

And as I drove, I decided I'd just turn around and not go.

"You don't need one more day during the week that you have to go somewhere"
"You'll feel like a dork coming into a group after they've all had a week to meet each other, do introductions, get to know each other a bit"
"There won't be room in the kid's program"
"If you do get into a group, it'll be all young moms that you won't learn anything from"
"Joel will just cause problems"
"It'll just be old women there anyway"
"The kid's program is nothing more than playtime; the boys can play at home"
"You won't make any friends; why bother?"
"Did you really learn that much from Genesis?  You don't need to study Matthew"

How well Satan knows me. 

He knows just what words to say, just where to poke, exactly what sour-little-nothings will make me chicken out, change my mind, decide not to.

But, being me, I thought those were all valid reasons.  I hadn't yet discerned that I was not the speaker of those words.

The only reason I didn't turn around was because I figured Taylor would be mad that I made her drag her rump out of bed so early to babysit, and then have me show up thirty minutes later saying I'd changed my mind.

All the greeters were Linda-P.-friendly.  Ok, maybe not quite that friendly.

There was a huge group of newbies in the welcome class.

There were a lot of old women, but plenty of younger people too.

During the welcome class, I sat next to a lady with a three-month-old, and I got to hold him while she filled out her paperwork.

(I don't want another baby.  I don't want another baby.  I don't....yes I do.  But I don't want another kid.  Just some babies)

My new leader called me the next day.

Even though they said the kid's program was pretty full, there was room for both boys.

My group had three other people who couldn't be there the first day, so I won't be the only one feeling like an outsider because I wasn't there the first week.

The group has both younger moms and women who have high-school-aged and older kids, so I won't be the "old" one in a group of 20-somethings who just happen to have the same-aged kids as me.

So even if some of the other thoughts and doubts are valid, who cares?  If I don't make friends, so what?  If all I get out of the year is a better understanding of Matthew, a chance to sing a few hymns, and a few leads on a new church, that's an improvement, and, I guess, a good reason to have one more thing to do each week.