There's nothing like doing the walk of shame on a Sunday morning, back to your parent's home, to make you feel like a sixteen year old again.
Trust me, as I walked up my Mother's street this morning, praying that she'd be at church, I felt like a dirty teenage stop-out.
She was indeed at church. Hopefully she was asking for me to be saved.
Lord knows, I need all the prayers I can get after last night.