When my cousin Danny and I were kids, we spent every Wednesday night at youth group being complete pukes to our favorite youth pastor Harry. It went like this, we’d sit in the corner, or up front, or wherever amongst the sixteen or so regular attenders and giggle, joke, and goof off uncontrollably until Pastor Harry told us to shut it, then maybe we’d go silent for a minute or two but as sure as cereal gets soggy we’d start up again. Honestly, we were the kind of kids you like to loathe, oblivious to the feelings of others, utter juvenile attention seekers.
Now we’re thirty and have both worn the mantel of youth leadership; I was a youth worker for a few years and Danny is currently a youth pastor. Recently, after a massive fondue party, we reflected with embarrassment on how tough and probably disheartening it was to have been tasked with basically babysitting us unruly jerks for all those years.
So Harry, if you somehow ever see this spot of words, please know that you are awesome and that we’re sorry. You meant the world to us as an adult who listened and cared about our frivolity filled lives. Though we never deserved it, you always gave above and beyond, you inspire us still.
Love, The Giggle Queens
