I’m teaching a women’s retreat. It’s my first time venturing out of my own church for a speaking gig (“gig” makes it sound like I’ll be playing the bass at a nightclub but I couldn’t think of another word). I asked the gal organizing the retreat to email me a list of those attending so that I could pray over each lady by name. Then I took my idea a step further, a step toward totally creepy, and looked up each person on Facebook and prayed over their profile picture. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but once I started it felt totally weird and even sort of dirty so I stopped after the first 10. The remaining women get prayed over by name only. I trust the Lord will know who I’m talking about without having to consult their Facebook profiles.
God’s all, “You’re praying for Nicole Garrison? How am I suppose to know which one!? There are like, what, 7500 of them in Texas alone!”
Anyway, for the past couple of months, most of my free minutes have been a split between overdosing on Pinterest for what to wear in New York City (I’m going to New York City next month!) and what all God was up to in the Old Testament.
Okay, so New York City. I started this blog post making you think I’m all holy and whatnot with my church lady stuff, but now I’m going to crash that image.
My BFFBB (Best Friend Forever Besides Benson), who happens to be my cousin Robin, has to take a business trip to Manhattan. She casually mentioned seeing if she could find a way to fly her 10-year-old daughter up there once the business part was done so that they could spend a few days together in the city.
Guess who ruined that idea?
I straight up called her after chatting with Benson (who said, “You should go! When will you ever get to go to New York with Robin again?” – so blame him for this) and checked how many airline points I’d squirreled away and was like, “Hey, have you arranged for Aubrie to come to New York?”
She hadn’t.
And then I swooped in. “Well don’t, because I’M COMING WITH YOU!”
Boom! And that’s how you break a fifth grader’s heart, my friends. (Aubrie – Aunt Christina loves you, she really does. But come on – New York City?)
Robin and I are getting LOADS of work done in preparation for our trip. Like planning outfits. And texting each other pictures of ladies wearing American flags and thongs in Times Square and saying “This will be us next month!” (Okay, actually, I sent that text after searching Google images for “crazy ladies in New York,” and yes I felt kind of bad about it and have repented.) And singing New York songs to each other on the phone.
Benson helped out by searching for cheap hotels for us to stay in for the portion of our trip that will take place after her company is finished footing the bill. He found a good one we were about to book, until I read the fine print and discovered the room DID NOT COME WITH A BATHROOM.
Anyway, we’re staying at this fancy place, and the website says that men have to wear a coat and tie in the lounge and women need to dress accordingly. I have no idea how that’s actually going to play out when I’m heading out for a jog across the Brooklyn Bridge (oh yes I am!) in my stretchy pants and sweatbands, but I’ll let you know.
Here’s the part I’m really concerned about though. I show up in the Big Apple on one of the days Robin will be working in some skyscraper (she thinks she’s all that, I swear), and I just KNOW there’s going to be a mix-up at the fancy hotel and they won’t have me on some list and will therefore deny me entry. They’re going to be like, “You’re not on our list. Please exit the premises.” And then I’ll have to sleep on the subway.
Robin has a business dinner one night that I’m trying to weasel my way into. I called her yesterday.
Me: Okay, so are you thinking maybe the people taking you to dinner will ask me to come, too?
Robin (as gently as she can muster): Mm, no.
Me: But you did mention I’m coming with you to New York, right? Like, they know I’ll just be by myself that night, right?
Robin: Yes, they know.
Me: Okay, well, maybe you could just mention it again. And then mention it right before y’all go to dinner. Like, “Gosh, wonder what my cousin’s going to do for dinner tonight!”
Robin: They’ve already bought a certain number of tickets for a show afterward.
Me: I know, but I could still go to dinner. I don’t even want to go to the show.
Then Robin just nervously laughed and changed the subject to what we’re going to wear.
I’m thinking I still might be able to get into that dinner. Maybe I’ll look up the people on Facebook and pray they invite me.
Okay, back to the Old Testament.
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