God, You’ve Worn Out Your Welcome

God, you’ve worn out your welcome.

There are numerous country western songs on life in small towns. And for some reason, my heart loves them all! I’m a small community gal at heart. I enjoy school open houses that turn into reunions, grocery isle catch-ups, and coffee drinking, problems solvers at the station. Maybe only one time in my life have I considered just packing up and moving; only to have God remind just where He planted His crop!

Life here is not easy; nor is it slow, regardless of what your music stream sings to you. Life here is all knowing!  Your neighbors have a summary of you, your family, your parents, your grandparents, what time you get your mail, how much you owe the water association [because they’ve gotten your mail a time or two] what you grow in your garden, what you’re like at ball game, how you like your coffee, and where you hide the spare key. Neighbors know your life and if one doesn’t know, the other neighbor will clarify it for the both. It’s life in a small community. It’s comfortable and rarely changes. It’s beautiful. I have a hope that Heaven will be more glorious but so very similar. Except… welcome mats that never need replaced.

Our front porch is fixed nicely. Welcoming neighbors to our wall… oh I mean house. Sorry! Neighbors know life outside our walls.  They see and record and hold on to what we present. We can present anything desired… life like a southern magazine if that’s your thing! We present that God is living in our homes! We may present the best life on social media, at church, in the bleachers, at school. We declare over and over. God is welcome here! We have the pretty WELCOME mat on the porch after all! He is welcome… until He isn’t!

It’s inside our walls, tucked away from the eyes of our neighbors, where we repeatedly whisper: “God, you’ve worn out your welcome.” The house is where we speak real. Where our kids learn habits. Where we view our Netflix binges. Where we knock the dust off one of the Bibles on a Sunday morning. Where we lust after the world. Where we let ourselves be real. Where God knows He’s worn out His welcome, but loves us enough to fix His own plate for supper!


Jenny Stafford