Meet Me in St. Louis - Part Three

Ready for Part Three? After all, the best stories always come in threes, don’t they? Part One of this silly story was about my discovery that the writing workshop I was attending was in St. Louis and not Seward, NE. Part Two was about what I experienced on my flight to St. Louis. So without further ado, the much anticipated Part Three of Meet Me in St. Louis.

Ever since my adventures in St. Louis, I’ve realized something about myself. I am a worrier. Well, actually I’ve always realized this, but it became even more clear once I’d returned home from my travels. You see, while I was in St. Louis it was a step-by-step thing. I was already so overwhelmed by being there in the first place that I had to take it one moment at a time.

From the beginning of this crazy adventure, I leaned on God like I hadn’t for a long time. When I was still a swinging single, I was used to doing things on my own. I was much more independent with a “ready for anything” kind of attitude. That’s the way it was because that’s the way it had to be. Since becoming a stay-at-home mom, my boundaries and my carefree spirit have shrunk considerably. I feel secure in my home with my kids and the routine that I’ve established. A routine that is so familiar, so safe, so comfortable. Problem is, when I’m in my comfort zone, it’s easy to forget what it’s like to depend on God for everything.

So you might say that this trip gave me a little kick in the pants. That’s okay. It was a kick in the pants that I needed. Depending on God throughout this adventure was the only way I could deal with how overwhelmed I felt. And just to set the record straight - God did not disappoint.

When I got off the plane, I faced my first challenge – finding a cab. Turns out it was pretty easy. It doesn’t hurt that I have a husband who travels to St. Louis frequently. He gave me tips to make the journey as painless as possible. Things like writing down the address for the driver. Asking if he took credit cards. Yup, didn’t hurt that my hubby had gone this route a few times.

When I arrived on campus, my first task was to find a place to eat. Knowing nothing about the area, I thought it would be best to eat at the school’s cafeteria. Problem being, who would I sit by? I walked into the cafeteria praying for a place to sit that wouldn’t make me feel so conspicuous. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the seating area and looked around. There were several groups of people sitting together, but there was one man sitting alone. I felt a prompting to go sit by him, but the chicken in me didn’t want to take the risk. Then, aaaw, what the heck. I’m already way out of my comfort zone why not take another step? So I sat down across the table from him and introduced myself. While we made small talk, I couldn’t help noticing that he had a name tag on. Out of curiousity I asked him what he was on campus for. Even before he responded, I knew what he was going to say, he was here for the same faith and writing workshop that I was.

Coincidence? I think not. From then on, this pastor and I became friends. Since I had no idea how to get to the class, he led the way to the building and room where it was being held. Once we reached the classroom, he offered me the use of his extension cord which in my flurry of packing, I’d forgotten.

On the last night before the workshop ended, he told me a story. He had prayed to find a friend at the workshop - someone he could chat with, especially about writing. Turns out I was the answer to that prayer. Just think, if I hadn’t gone over and sat by him, the story would have turned out much differently.

From the moment I sat down for lunch next to a complete stranger, until I got back on that plane home, I did my best to following the promptings of God. And you know what? It was an amazing adventure. From finding this little café a block away from campus where they made a mean fruit and yogurt parfait (fresh mint in it – remarkable), to sitting next to one of the sweetest woman I’ve ever known, to getting the chance to visit an amazing family that I’ve known for many years; God provided. And the thing is, I could relax because God being God, I didn’t need to worry that he wouldn’t take care of my needs.

You know what I discovered - the really cool part of the whole trip? God was as faithful then as he’d been when I was single. And it made me wonder - how had I managed to forget this one important fact; that God is faithful. My theory? I don’t need God in the everyday, ordinary things of life. I’m in control. I get through my days just fine on my own. No help needed.

Only problem is, that’s not exactly true. It doesn’t matter if I’m sitting in a Faith and Writing Workshop in St. Louis, or cooking dinner in my small town Nebraska home - God is always God. And, whether I recognize it or not, God is faithful. Always. Everyday. No matter what.

So I’ll wrap up my trilogy here. The biggest lesson I learned from this whole experience? Just because I know my way around town, or get all my food needs met at the grocery store, or live the same routine day after day doesn’t mean God isn’t working wonders in my life. And it’s not his fault if I fail to recognize them for what they are. So, maybe I’ll step out of my comfort zone a little more realizing that God is working his “little miracles” in my life everyday. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll remember to be oh-so-grateful that he is.

Meet me in St. Louis; Part I

Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him. Isaiah 64:4

This past week was an interesting one. Nothing worked out the way I’d planned, not one thing.  But, you know what? It turned out even better - better than I would have expected or imagined. But to get to the place I was going I had to learn to take an overwhelming situation one step at a time.

Monday found me packing to go to a faith and writing workshop at Concordia in Seward, NE. I have to admit I was pretty excited. Getting away for a few days to be something besides mommy sounded wonderful. Not only that, but I would have the opportunity to work on a craft that brings me so much pleasure – writing.  

Late afternoon I headed to my office and began to pack up my computer as well as the packet of information describing details of the workshop; the schedule, location, living accomodations, etc. As I was looking at a map of the campus my eyes strayed to the top line of the paper.  That’s when I noticed it.  A big noticed it – a notice that made my heart stop beating. Have I mentioned that the workshop was to take place at Concordia in Seward? It turns out I was wrong. The conference wasn’t in Seward, Ne. It was at Concorida all right, but not the one I was thinking of. Nope, this class was in St. Louis, on Corcordia’s Seminary campus. You may wonder how I could have missed that tiny little detail. Your guess is as good as mine, but I kinda wonder if all along this was a God thing.  You see, if I would have known when I registered for the class that it would be in St. Louis, I wouldn’t have signed up. Now it was too late. I’d already paid for the class.

Shaking my head, I stared at the page, hoping against hope that what I’d just read was wrong. In a panicked state I called my husband. “Well, Hon,” I started out, “I guess I’m not going to this workshop after all. “Why?” he seemed confused, “What happened?” “Oh, just one minor detail,” I responded, “The conference isn’t in Seward. It’s in St. Louis.”  His response was almost immediate, “Well, let’s see what flight we can get you on.” ‘What? Are you kidding me,’ I thought. But my husband persisted. He promised to look up flights and encouraged me to do the same. We hung up, did some research, and found a direct flight from Omaha to St. Louis. It would get me to the workshop a little late, but better late than never, right? Right.

I’ll admit that there was a BIG part of me that did not want to do this - fly on an airplane to a city I’d never visited. Here I was a stay-at-home-mom who hadn’t traveled by myself in years. Now I was being challenged to step out of my comfort zone, and I didn’t like it – not one bit. At that moment I decided something very important. The only way I was going to make this trip would be to take it one step at a time; beginning with the step of packing my suitcase.

My husband got me through step two - driving me to the airport where I hugged and kissed my family good-bye. Then gathering up my luggage, I took a deep breath and walked into the airport ready to face the next step. ‘St Louis here I come,’ I thought, ‘Ready or not.’