I finished the glass of cranberry juice and walked outside to a courtyard. I almost let myself get run over by a lady directing a tray rack to the kitchen. She and I exchanged pleasantries but she had no idea how uncomfortable I was.
Out in the courtyard I could smell smoke. I had found the staff’s smoke break area. I sat down in the double sliding chair and tried to get a handle on myself. I couldn’t. I wanted to get into my car and just go home.
I called Melissa T. I had been meaning to call her again. We kept missing each other this past week and playing phone tag. Almost as soon as I opened my mouth, I wanted to cry. I told her I couldn’t do this. That I felt out of place and uncomfortable.
If you knew my friend Melissa, you’d know immediately she was not about to coddle me. I think I appreciate that about her the most. She doesn’t pull punches and she doesn’t sugar coat what needs to be said. She’s upfront and speaks her mind.
Melissa told me I couldn’t go home. She said new experiences are raw and uncomfortable because they’re unfamiliar and new and real. She told me I was strong enough to stay. She reminded me that I didn’t have to cut myself off from civilization and that I was never really alone. That I had to figure out why I didn’t want to be by myself.
Melissa said that I had as much to talk about with myself as I did with God. That I needed to figure out why I was so scared to be here. What was going on (obviously something significant) that I was willing to just blow off this experience, get in my car and drive three hours back home?
I took a deep breath, well, many deep breaths, and started to repeat what she was saying in my mind. And out loud to her. She recommended going back to my room and unpacking everything. Melissa stressed the point of making myself comfortable physically in my room first, then the emotional comfort would follow. I needed to go back and make the room my own space.
Back in my room I took everything out of the bags. I put the toiletries in the bathroom area, the clothes away in the dresser and pulled out all of the materials out of the messenger bag. I took out the road trip food supplies and put them on the dresser edge by the ice bucket. All the bags unpacked, I fully explored the room, checking out all the lights and the bathroom and the window shade and the desk. Also took a quick tour of the guest house area. More on that later.
It was all done pretty quietly which was a little weird. No music, no TV, no other person around. Just me. Then I settled in the comfy chair in the corner, put my feet on the little ottoman and started the first chapter of Celebration of Discipline. It’s on mediation. It seemed like a really good place to start.
I read and took notes and read. And listened. And took more notes. And argued with what I wrote down. And admitted I needed to do what I was writing down. (Which I struggled with when I got back but that’s a later blog too).
And then before I knew it, it was dinner time.
Tune in tomorrow to find out the fiasco dinner almost was…
Out in the courtyard I could smell smoke. I had found the staff’s smoke break area. I sat down in the double sliding chair and tried to get a handle on myself. I couldn’t. I wanted to get into my car and just go home.
I called Melissa T. I had been meaning to call her again. We kept missing each other this past week and playing phone tag. Almost as soon as I opened my mouth, I wanted to cry. I told her I couldn’t do this. That I felt out of place and uncomfortable.
If you knew my friend Melissa, you’d know immediately she was not about to coddle me. I think I appreciate that about her the most. She doesn’t pull punches and she doesn’t sugar coat what needs to be said. She’s upfront and speaks her mind.
Melissa told me I couldn’t go home. She said new experiences are raw and uncomfortable because they’re unfamiliar and new and real. She told me I was strong enough to stay. She reminded me that I didn’t have to cut myself off from civilization and that I was never really alone. That I had to figure out why I didn’t want to be by myself.
Melissa said that I had as much to talk about with myself as I did with God. That I needed to figure out why I was so scared to be here. What was going on (obviously something significant) that I was willing to just blow off this experience, get in my car and drive three hours back home?
I took a deep breath, well, many deep breaths, and started to repeat what she was saying in my mind. And out loud to her. She recommended going back to my room and unpacking everything. Melissa stressed the point of making myself comfortable physically in my room first, then the emotional comfort would follow. I needed to go back and make the room my own space.
Back in my room I took everything out of the bags. I put the toiletries in the bathroom area, the clothes away in the dresser and pulled out all of the materials out of the messenger bag. I took out the road trip food supplies and put them on the dresser edge by the ice bucket. All the bags unpacked, I fully explored the room, checking out all the lights and the bathroom and the window shade and the desk. Also took a quick tour of the guest house area. More on that later.
It was all done pretty quietly which was a little weird. No music, no TV, no other person around. Just me. Then I settled in the comfy chair in the corner, put my feet on the little ottoman and started the first chapter of Celebration of Discipline. It’s on mediation. It seemed like a really good place to start.
I read and took notes and read. And listened. And took more notes. And argued with what I wrote down. And admitted I needed to do what I was writing down. (Which I struggled with when I got back but that’s a later blog too).
And then before I knew it, it was dinner time.
Tune in tomorrow to find out the fiasco dinner almost was…
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