Highlights from the Conference Trip

. . . Reading all of Edith Wharton’s House of Mirth on the train ride down to Florida. I so identified with Lily Bart – I really wish that I had had time to write the lengthy post on the book that I had composed in my head on that Sunday when I arrived at the hotel . . . I can’t really do it justice right now, but I do think I need to read it again soon . . . it really affected me . . .

. . . Having a hotel bathroom no larger that a hall closet. When you opened the door, you only *just* missed hitting the toilet on the opposite wall and barely had enough clearance to close the door again without having to stand directly in the bathtub . . .

. . . Feeling exactly like a mom, in that I could never finish an entire meal without getting interrupted with a problem, question, or something that had to be done RIGHT THEN. I am certain that I must have lost weight during the past week, since I never had more than a couple of forkfuls of salad or eggs at any one sitting. I mostly lived on Diet Cokes and chewing gum, I think . . .

. . . Calling Mr. Random at work to get some information for one of the conference presenters and then accidentally leaving him on hold for 20 minutes, because the conference laptops broke down and we had to use mine in their place to show the PowerPoint presentations. I ran to give the AV guy my laptop, then was stopped in the hall with a couple of questions by some attendees, and then the next thing I knew, I was back in the hotel office looking at my cell phone, going “OH MY GOD! I’M SO SORRY, SWEETIE!” He was a good sport about it all, and was actually humming his own waiting music the entire time . . . such a trooper! What a mess! . . .

. . . Despite the fact that when we had copies of all of the presentations made, we specifically specified a number that would provide more than enough handouts for everyone, we still ended up short for several workshops. Getting copies made at the hotel was a very expensive proposition, since they basically wanted 20 cents a page to use their copy machines, and the nearest Kinko’s was miles away . . .

. . . Having to facilitate a workshop in the middle of dealing with everything else. I was an exhausted wreck by that point in the day (late afternoon) and all of the attendees were exhausted as well. There was good interaction, but I clearly did not do a great job at changing gears so quickly. I can’t do everything – be liaison to the hotel staff, make sure all of the presentations and workshops are running smoothly, make sure we the meals and breaks are set up properly, be responsive to the attendees questions, requests and complaints, AND then turn around and do my own workshop . . . something has to give somewhere . . .

. . . Watching the sun rise each morning over the beach from my hotel room balcony. So beautiful! The sunsets were amazing, too . . .

. . . Putting my feet into the Gulf of Mexico on my last night in Florida. Now I can say I did that, even though the water was pretty darn cold . . . and so was the sand. In fact the evenings were pretty chilly, and I’m glad I brought my sweaters and jacket down with me . . .

. . . Meeting a Pastor from Paris, France at the train station on the way out of town. I guess he saw how tired I looked sitting there, and he came over and talked to me. Such a wonderfully nice man, and his English was impeccable! He would often say, “My English is not very good, is it?” and I would reply, “Your English is better than a lot of native-born speakers!” – and it was true. (It made me wish that I knew how to speak French, for certain!) We talked for quite a while about how he became a priest and about his family in France (wife and three young daughters). He was in the States for a church conference and now was going to visit his sister in Connecticut. He was soon moving to the Congo to start a church there, and was trying to recruit some resources and support from the other pastors. He was born and raised in Congo, but his ministerial studies brought him to France 20 years ago, and he has lived there ever since. Before he left me, he said many kind words to me and gave me a blessing in French. Sometimes people appear in your life when you least expect it, and they give you a gift that you didn’t know you needed. This dear man was one of those people . . .

. . . Getting into D.C.’s Union Station three hours late, but seeing Mr. Random’s smiling face at the end of the journey . . .

So, how was everyone else’s week?