Welcome to the KingZoo and Funny Farm, where we learn to live, laugh, and love together. Here you'll find snippets of life in our zoo, parenting tips we've learned along the way, reflections on shining God's light in this world, passions in the realm of orphan care, and our journey as parents of a visually impaired child with sensory processing disorder. Have fun!
Friday, May 21, 2010
I learned very early in my marriage that when an extrovert says, "You know what would be neat" the next sentence is not going to be something in which I will want to participate. In fact, it will probably involve breaking a rule of some kind, being in a group (horrors!) or doing something which will cause great embarrassment.
This is why (confession time) I do not go on retreats. Retreats are made only for extroverts. They involve groups of people, mingling is mandatory, and stupid get to know you games are a given. So much for privacy. And after one dreadful retreat experience, I was done for good.
John, as has already been established, loves retreats. So when we were invited to a pastor/spouse retreat at Maple Pond in the Poconos (name changed to protect the guilty), there was no doubt that we were going (never mind that it was mandatory). I did, however, put my foot down and insist that I was NOT going to go to the first session where I was positive stupid get to know you games would be on tap. We took our time checking in and carrying our suitcases to the room. At this point John was too close to people and action to stay away from the session. He insisted that enough time had passed so surely we could slip in unnoticed. I did not agree but being the submissive introvert that I am, I allowed him to drag me, kicking and screaming, to the door. At this point he put his ear to the door, listened for a few seconds, then again assured me that it was quiet so he was certain there were no stupid get to know you games going on (although I don't think he called them stupid). Feeling quite confident in his new-found detective skills he opened the door to a room full of people, bunched into various groups. They all looked over at us and the man in charge pointed right at me and said, "We're playing a get to know you game. Cluck like a chicken." And he didn't just ask once. He didn't even ask politely. He insisted (how I feel about being told what to do will have to wait for another day).
I have never been the same. And believe me, while I have been forced to attend pastor/spouse retreats (What is it about pastor/spouse retreats? Do you ever hear of electrician/spouse retreats or garbage collector/spouse retreats?) since that fateful day, I NEVER show up for the first session and I NEVER enter a room unless someone other than my husband has scoped it out first. And for all you folks who keep giving me invitations to the yearly women's retreat (I believe one year I received a total of 7 invitations; in my church mailbox, through email and one-on-one), now you know the real reason I ignore your efforts. Nothing personal, ladies.