I remember how hard I avoided it the first few years I was invited. I mean, if my avoiding this getaway was an athletic competition, I would have won a medal. My heart was firmly planted at home. I homeschooled. I needed to help the kids. Who's going to drive them to activities? Feed them? Wash their clothes? Get them up in the morning and make sure they finish their homework?
Actually, we have friends who were more than willing to help out with all of this.
I have nothing in common with the other wives.
Ouch. Finally, the truth. When I pushed away all my other reasons for my reluctance, I uncovered the real one. I felt unworthy. Who was I to go to a fancy hotel and interact with people much more sophisticated than I am? Who was I to say I was anything but a stay-at-home homeschooling mom?
Two years ago, after lining up places for my kids to go and rides to all their activities, I was on the verge of actually attending the conference. Then Ben started feeling sick. I can't remember exactly, but perhaps a sore throat. What if it gets worse? I couldn't let him infect my friends' kids who had graciously offered to have him stay with them. I played the mom card and jumped at the chance to cancel my plans.
What I remember most from that time was Ben's cold was pretty minor and talking with Walt during his long days at a conference without my support. I realized I let fear guide me. It wasn't a good feeling.
Last year, Walt urged me to go. It would help him. I should get to know the other wives. I knew I let him down the year before. So, I bit the bullet....and had an absolutely marvelous time.
Mostly, I discovered that I had more in common with the other wives than I thought. Peel away the fancy haircuts and designer clothes (which only a few actually wore--most of the others enjoyed their jeans and yoga pants as much as I did), they were wives, mothers, some with interesting careers and others who were tending their home and families, like me. Like me. I found I used that phrase much more often than I expected.
So this year, I eagerly packed a large tote bag full of books, pens and podcasts, planning on whiling away long, leisurely days by myself before joining everyone for the evening dinners.
God had other plans.
When we arrived at the hotel, our room was not ready. Walt needed to head into a meeting at noon, and I had planned on going for a walk before my massage appointment in a few hours. (Okay, even writing this makes me feel spoiled and indulgent. Last year I opted out of the chance to schedule a massage or even a pedicure because it wasn't me. Too fancy. Too girly. Too....much. This year, I bravely took the plunge and scheduled a massage to see if it would help with my achy joints. More on that later.)
So instead of slipping away to my room to change and explore the grounds by myself, I took my tote bag out to the patio and sipped on water, expecting a phone call any minute that my room would be ready.
One of the other wives, Gretchen, spotted me and I invited her to join me. She had a glass a wine and had ordered a light lunch. Because of my upcoming massage, I politely declined her offer to join her in eating, but nonetheless we shared a delightful conversation about our kids. I met Gretchen for the first time last year and immediately connected with her. She loves being a mom--so do I. Her last one just left for college--that'll be me in about four years. She now has time to travel with her husband and decide how she wants to spend her time. She is someone I easily admire and learn from. It was a nice way to spend my interrupted afternoon.
Soon, I broke away for my appointment, carrying my heavy tote bag, the books still unopened. After filling out paperwork, I was led to a locker which held a robe and slippers, then to a lounge area to wait for my therapist. Even though this was way out of my normal life, I certainly enjoyed it. I think I I imitated someone who knew what she was doing sorta well.
The inspiration to book this massage, to push myself out of my comfort zone so to speak, began last spring. I was sharing an update of my cancer story at our women's retreat and mentioned the aches and pains from taking Aromasin (the medicine which prevents estrogen in my body). One of my friends from church, a fellow breast cancer survivor, suggested I try massage since she found it to be surprisingly helpful for her aching joints. I took that advice in hand, and promptly tucked it away to do something with it some day.
Well, when I discovered we were staying at a spa which offered therapeutic massage options, and my massage would be paid for by the company, I couldn't not act on it. Even though, I was nervous calling to make the appointment. I was nervous walking down the steps to the spa. I was nervous sitting in a luxurious robe, drinking lavender-infused water and trying to act like I was supposed to be there. On the outside, I think I faked it pretty well. As I looked around, I wondered if it was only me or if everyone else belonged there.
The therapist put me at ease immediately. I could feel the muscles in my shoulder and hips loosen and lengthen. She advised I might be stiff the next day as my body releases the toxins. Instead, for the first time in too long I could do pushups without pain. When I moved after sitting for awhile, I felt no aches. My morning walk to the bathroom did not resemble a 90-year-old's shuffle. It was pure bliss. The aches have slowly returned, but the results of the message might be enough for me to find a therapist at home.
If I can find the time. And the money. (Although, I plan to talk with my doctor to see if I can get a prescription for massage...) Anyway, I'll keep you posted.
The next day was my free morning and afternoon of no plans except to read and walk and maybe even nap. After the heavy dinner the night before, I didn't feel like starting the day with a big breakfast, but I did want a cup of the freshly brewed, locally roasted coffee offered in the lobby. At the coffee pot, I smiled hi to one of the wives, one who I have seen around at various events through the years, usually a few drinks ahead of everyone else. Clearly, she was not someone I had much in common with.
As I wandered out to the same patio I sat at the day before with my coffee and book, she followed me. With a smile, she said, "I hope you don't think I'm stalking you."
I smiled back and invited her to join me. With my hair tucked into a baseball cap and wearing my favorite stretchy pants, I wasn't planning on staying long. Besides, she also had a paperback in hand.
We started talking.
And talking.
And talking.
This "party girl" and I had a lot more in common than either of us would have imagined. She loves being a mom. Her mom went through both ovarian and breast cancers. She fears the same future.
We talked about hopes. And dreams. And frustrations. We shared a little about what we believed in God. She described what she loves about being home with the kids and what she hates. I understood both.
We went to refill our coffee cups and discovered the coffee was gone. It was approaching 11 already. Both of us, now starving, sat down to eat lunch.
Three hours had passed. My book remained unopened. My plans of a quiet morning interrupted.
It was a case of an introvert (me) meeting an extrovert (her). It was meaningful and rich. Just as God planned it.
I said goodbye and headed back to my room. I spent a few quiet minutes reading before I decided to get in a walk first. After some exercise and a bit of exploring, I would feel better about spending the rest of the afternoon reading and maybe napping.
My earphones connected to a podcast, I wandered into the lobby to find a handful of the wives gathered there. "We are heading out for a five-mile walk," Kelly, the president's wife, offered. "Want to join us?"
Of course I would. A five mile walk was more than I knew I would do on my own. Plus, how fun would it be to find out more about these women as we walked, no fancy shoes or jewelry to get in the way of real conversation. In fact, some were not even wearing makeup.
We headed out, lost our way, turned around, headed back. We still weren't sure where we were supposed to be, but it sure was fun. Two of the women dropped out when they spotted the huge hill in front of us, but some of us continued on. We spotted alpacas. From the top of another hill, we enjoyed vistas of orchards and vineyards. We tramped into the grassy ditch as cars passed us on the narrow road. Eventually, several hours later, we managed to find our way back to the inn.
What was supposed to be a five-mile walk probably turned into six or seven. It was hard to tell because I was hearing the stories of interesting women as I breathed in the fresh, fall air.
Yes, the day was not as I planned but more than I hoped. Most of my books remained unopened during the days I stayed here, but my soul was filled with rich connections. I realized that by asking questions and listening, I found similarities and common ground to begin a friendship with people I would have never thought possible.
Mostly, I discovered that when God interrupts my plans, it's for a purpose. I might even learn that I was indeed worthy of being there, not because of what I did, but who I was. I was enough. I am enough. And so were the people I met. And so are you.
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