Yes, I Know...This is A Day Late

No, I was not kidnapped by the Marion Mafia. Yes, this is the first time in however many years I've been doing this that Bits has been a day late. A dollar short many times, I'm sure, but never a day late.

Welcome to the land of Bekah learning to be flexible. And what an exercise it has been!

This weekend I was given the opportunity to go on a retreat. Not a standard church retreat where all the women run from home screaming with joy at the freedom ahead...and then spend hours eating chocolate and giggling together. Not a standard Bekah retreat of checking into a hotel room for some rest and quality time with a journal and the Bible. This was very different from any kind of retreat I've been on before, and truthfully, my mind has not yet had enough down time to process all that happened.

I've not had time to journal since Wednesday, which is nearly like fasting for me. In fact, I'm barely able to wait long enough to get home and rip the journals out of the backpack to start writing. If I'm smart, I'll contend with the unpacked suitcase and the bedding strewn across the living room first. But then - who knows if I'll be smart!?!? Probably not.

I left for my retreat at 4:30 on Thursday and got home at 10 last night. I gave the heartiest hello I could muster to the cats, called my Mama and headed straight for my precious, huge, wonderful, fleece sheet covered bed. There I conked out and slept without moving until the alarm so rudely interrputed today.

Hence, no timely Bits for you.

I don't want to say too much about the retreat just yet - the God part of it anyway - because I am still thinking and unraveling all that took place.

But for those who need a "Bekahland" moment - I offer you the following.

I knew the retreat was being held at a church campground, and I anticipated that the sleeping arrangements would be large rooms filled with bunk beds. And that's exactly what we had. We were assigned a location, and all the lower bunks were filled. Four of us were assigned upper bunks. Two of them were up against a wall. I was not so fortunate.

My bed was a tiny metal island surrounded by a cement sea. And by tiny, I mean that the sleeping bag was wider than the bed. No rails on the bed. And not only that...no non-athletic way of climbing up to the top. The end didn't have rails. No ladder, no chair. Just me and my no-upper-body-strength. I could FEEL the comedy in my future.

The first bedtime approached and I eyed that bed with a sick feeling. I glanced around to find I had a little audience waiting to see just how I planned to go about getting into that bed. I don't blame them. I'd have done the same. So I took a deep breath, stepped up on the mattress of the lower bunk, threw my arms across the bed and started pulling while trying to maneuver a tae bo kick move with my leg. For those of you who are I Love Lucy fans...just think of the ballet episode. Not far from the truth. After giving the audience QUITE a show, I landed in the bed and managed to get inside the borrowed sleeping bag. Only then did I realize this was a sleeping bag that was rather slippery on the outside. I could only imagine sliding slowly off the bed in my sleep. What a story for my funeral. "She fell out of bed."

Knowing that I was stuck up there in that bunk also gave me the kid-in-a-snowsuit syndrome. But there was NO room for potty breaks, so I put that thought out of my mind.

I set about trying to go to sleep, but alas - no TV. No fan. Two essentials to my winding down process. I didn't even have a clock to know how late it was getting.

What I did have was snoring. I was SHOCKED. Aren't men supposed to be the big time snorers? I expected a snoring duet or maybe a trio. This was a CHOIR! So there I was...on my back (which I never do, but I was afraid if I turned on my side, I'd fall right out of bed), staring at the very near ceiling, listening to the snoring, wondering if I'd ever sleep...

...and I won't kid about this part, because it wasn't funny at all. It was quite scary actually. One of the other ladies became ill in the night and long story short, we were all up for much of the night sitting by and praying, since we didn't know what to do for her.

After the second round of her sickness came, I gave up on ever actually sleeping and determined to get out of bed. I stuck my head over the side (while hanging on for dear life) to see if the bottom bunk lady was awake. She was, so I informed her I would be attempting to exit the bed at that time.

I scooted the sleeping bag out of the way for safety reasons, assumed a surfboard position across the bed and started to scoot down the side. My jammie pant legs caught on the mattress and slid up, up, up my leg while I slid down, down, down the side.

Hey, once you start a show, you gotta finish it.

Let the record show, I did not get back in THAT bed the rest of the weekend.

So there you have a taste of my weekend...and I must now go work off some of the food they fed me!