I was gone all weekend to a womens retreat through my mother in-law’s church.  I knew not one soul there, besides my mother in-law, her niece, a few friends of hers I’ve met . . . once or so, and a friend of my sister in-law’s that I’ve likewise met once.  The speaker of note did provoke some thoughts in my lil brainybrain, and it was a good weekend away from phones and computers, I did some sketching (yay) and I won a picnic in a backpack set – 4 plates, spoons, forks, knives, wine goblets, cloth napkins, a tablecloth, a wine key, a serrated knife, a salt and pepper shaker, a insulated part, an insulated wine section with velcro to secure the neck – that made me just happy (aunt Dawna, the wine stuff could be used for juice or water, too, I swear).

It was, however, a very stressful event.  See, none of these women really knew me.  At the most, they had shaken my hand before.  But all these women knew who brought me, and she is in their lives weekly, some daily, so even if they didn’t judge me like that, I still felt my behavior was being watched and attributed to her.  I have become lax, in my years away from church.  I cuss, I like to have a drink (alcohol was banned from the premises, which only made me want a glass of wine with dinner with a vengeance), I don’t like to wear pants in my room, I have a different view of organized religion.  I don’t think I am someone of whom these ladies would really approve.

I therefore took it upon myself to watch my tongue, keep my head down, and not visibly mock them.  See, I’ve become such a scornful hussy that I mock perfectly sincere people practicing their spirituality.  Ain’t I a peach?  I spent a good portion of the weekend smacking myself mentally for that mindset, because really, people can believe what they want!  It is not on me to look down on them because I think they don’t look cool while doing it.  And if I’m not brave enough to act mine out, then more’s the pity on me.

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