Hosting is part of my job, occasionally. I only have to host once this spring, although I will probably have things to do with the Mother/Daughter retreat in April and the Senior Retreat in May. In the fall, I'm sure I will have to host more. But Lisa thought it would be wise to start me out slow. I'm glad. It's been quite a weekend.
First of all, I don't like large groups. And nearly 120 women is definitely a large group. I didn't have to give or anything. Standing up in front of them to be introduced was bad enough. But part of my job was "mingling". I went from building to building, admiring what the women were working on. Most of them, I admired from a distance. For it takes about every ounce of courage I have to say, "Hi! I'm Melissa." But I did speak to a few of them...the few who have never met a stranger in their life.
I much preferred the other parts of hosting: delivering specialty coffee Saturday afternoon. (Come rain, sleet or snow the coffee will be delivered! And I went through it all: rain, sleet and snow. No to mention trudging through slush, wet sand and snow.) Vacuuming the sandy carpet, finding shampoo for a woman who forgot hers, un-stucking the automatic hand towel dispenser and refilling it the next day. Learned how to use an espresso machine and a cash register. And I had a few women look at me and ask, "What did you say?" when I used the word "y'all". So, I also interpreted. Played valet, carried around sewing machines, and saw some very beautiful quilts. But, sadly, the quilt instructors have not yet brought me over to their side. I shall not be starting a quilt anytime in the near future.
But I also had some lessons taught this weekend that had little to do with quilting and everything to do with humility:
- Lost my driver's license.
- Got stuck in a snowbank.
- Locked myself out of the house.
And all that within about 10 minutes.
Actually, I lost my driver's license in the morning. It wasn't in my jacket pocket when I put my camp keys back in it. I wasn't too concerned because I thought I just left it at the house. But after turning the house upside down about three times, I got about as panicked as Melissa Sturm ever becomes. For there is little worse than loosing a driver's license when you have to get it moved to another state over the next couple of months. I filled out the form I would need to send to Texas Monday morning after I called to make sure it was the right one and prayed. A LOT.
But backing up a bit (before I turned the house upside down three times), I got stuck in a snowbank. It rained, sleeted, iced and snowed most of Saturday. By the time I went home that evening, it was a mess. Phil kept the camp as clear as he could, but the road had yet to be plowed, nor the quarter-mile-driveway-with-a-slight-incline. I gained as much speed as I could to get up the slight hill, but only made it half way. So, I backed down and tried again. That time I gained three-quarters of the way. I knew I could do it with one more good run, so I put the car in reverse...swerved...and landed a good portion of my back bumper in a snowbank. Unable to maneuver in any direction, I put on the brake, took my things, grabbed a flashlight and trudged up to the house. From there, I called Wendy who lives next door and will be my landlord next week. I just wanted to tell her she couldn't use the driveway, but she said she'd have Aaron (her 20-something-year-old son) come and dig me out. After turning the house upside down the first time, I went out to meet him, his bobcat and his huge Lab Strider. I gave him my keys and he said he'd do what he can.
Now (aside from turing the house upside down twice more) comes the rest Saturday's story. I trudged back up the house only to find I had locked myself out. After getting over the urge to scream, I marched back down the driveway where I met Wendy and her husband Don who were getting out of their truck parked behind my stuck car to get my house keys off my car keys. When Aaron asked if I needed anything, I humbly had to admit what I had done and ask for my keys. I don't think he thought I was too blond, although that didn't much matter. By this point of time, I did. And least I had a little bit of justice later when he admitted to stalling my car as he pulled it up the driveway...it had been a while since he'd driven a stick.
Sunday morning I risked life-and-limb (not really, I just drove carefully) to make it to camp to pray with the instructors before breakfast. They already knew (because of a text I sent Lisa) to pray I'd find my missing driver's license. I opened up Marc's office to get the chair I had used yesterday...and there was my driver's license sitting on it.
The story? As well as I can guess, when I retrieved my keys to unlock Marc's office, I left the pocket (which is on my chest) open. The license must have slipped out when I leaned over to pull Marc's chair out into the waiting room. And then I sat on it. Needing to dash off to breakfast, I didn't look when I put the chair back and locked up the office again. So, there as my license waiting for me Sunday morning. Praise the Lord!
So, the Lord has showed Himself very faithful to me this past weekend. And as grateful as I always am for such lessons, I hope my first weekend of hosting is a not a precursor of weekends to come. Hosting is trying enough. Driver's licenses, stuck cars and locked houses are much more. And yet proof that God's grace is, indeed, sufficient.
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