My little girl crawled behind me as I ran into the kitchen to grab a piece of bread to give her for an improvised breakfast. I wanted to keep running—from my own stench. But I supposed I should return to my surprise guests who caught me finishing up an early morning workout.
My 3-year-old son saw the bread and wanted one, too. So, I excused myself again to get one for him, looking longingly at the bathroom—its promise of cleanliness calling out to me.
I returned, and smiled, though the sweat rings were still wet on my t-shirt, and my hair was plastered all greasy and sweaty on my head. I racked my brain for the polite thing to do in this culture. Excuse myself for 10 minutes so I could shower and just hope the kids don’t cry and pound on the bathroom door like they often do?
To find out what happened, visit For Missionary Moms where I'm guest blogging today.
photo credit, Pink Sherbet Photography