Invasion of the Girl's Sports Team

By Mary Vee

Up since 5 am. Checking in a hotel at 7pm. The super softball team enters the lobby.

After a long day of traveling and competition, one would think the traveling high school girl's softball team would be ready to hang in the hotel located near the stadium.

Oh no. Not!

Invisible energy seeps into their bodies from some vast unknown source.

With the strength of Rocky they heft their super-sized gym bags over their shoulders, take a stroll through the lobby to check out the fireplace or mounted TV, and gab, giggle, or guffaw while some weary chaperone or coach checks them into the hotel.

The presence of only fifteen to twenty bodies expands to fill every molecular space in the hotel lobby and atrium normally able to contain one hundred people. This was not a Days Inn they stayed at for the night.

I watched from a corner, the only space left, and soaked in the most interesting conversation between two of the girls.

Girl 1: Giggle . . . "and then when he" . . . giggle.

Girl 2: Giggle . . . "I know . . . and I" . . .giggle bends over laughing

Girl 1: Giggle . . . snort . . . "I can't believe" . . . giggle bumps into the girl 2

Girl 2:Giggle . . . wipes laughing tear . . . "and then" . . . giggle

Girl 1: Giggle . . .giggle . . .snort . . . sigh

That was the entire conversation!

There were only two people in the world who had a clue what that conversation was about, I wasn't one.

But to the bystander, the meaning of the conversation didn't matter. Anyone listening would have laughed right along with them . . . I did.

The next morning at the breakfast bar not one girl spoke. Their eyes drooped and a few laid their heads on the table. Zombies had taken over their bodies!

Comments

Suzanne Woods Fisher - Overcoming the Fear of Failure

We've all had something fail. Maybe a school assignment, baking a cake, changing a car tire. Well that was my shortlist confession. There really is a mile long list that you don't want to hear. Talk about a quick drive to the blues. Even one negative comment in a barrel full of praises can take us down. Sigh. Why oh why do we remember the one negative one and forget the positives. You are not alone. We all do this. But there is a way of escape. Today, Suzanne Woods Fisher is going to share her story. The Fear of Failure “For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you. Do not fear; I will help you” (Isaiah 41:13, niv). Years ago, before I received my first book contract, an editor returned a manuscript to me with the comment that the writing wasn’t up to her publishing house’s “caliber.” Ouch! That was a tough remark to swal...

A Memory Device For You

Photo Courtesy Recently I added a memory game to my week's activities. It all started when I listened to one of those fabulous sermons in church and actually took notes. Later in the week, I recalled liking the sermon and searched for the notes, but lamented when I couldn't find the piece of paper. I quizzed myself: What was the general topic? I racked my brain…good grief this was Thursday and a thousand other things had happened when I asked the question. After a cup of tea, visualizing where I sat in the sanctuary, and using every other means possible to remember the general topic I finally answered the question. The process to recall the rest of the good things said was an epic fail. Although I have since started using a notebook I have created a memory game. On Monday, at any point during the day, I try to say the following without the use of my notes: General topic of the sermon Main book of the Bible used Application p...

Laughter and Singing at the Homeless Shelter

It was a night to remember. A night to tell friends about. So I am... Fifty men, women, and teens rode in busses on icy expressways into the inner city. They poured out of the bus at a homeless shelter unsure where to go, what to do, or what to say. One led the pack through the main doors, pass security checkpoints, and on through winding hallways to a large room. At night, this room is filled, wall to wall, with cots, blankets, and at this time of year, cold homeless men, women, and children. On this evening before the night, hundreds of chairs formed straight rows and faced a platform. The fifty set up sound and instrument equipment. Singers cozied in the limited platform space. Instrumentalists tuned their instruments. A few residents poked their heads in the door. Intrigued, they came in and watched the first measures of several songs start, stop, start again. Microphone levels adjusted. The singers laughed. Chattered. The group stepped off to the side and...

The Storyteller | Mary Vee

Search This Blog