Episode 3 - Tea and Canadians

I almost had a panic attack in church last Sunday. Husband and I have only been to two services at the new church we've been going to, and we stick out like clueless tourists. The church building is small, and its congregation is about to burst its seams. So once we walk in the doors there's a gauntlet of people packed in so tight you can't even breathe without sucking in a "Glad to see you!" or "How are you???" or even, "How can you possibly doubt my genuine excitement to see you when my eyes are so wide they might pop out of my head and take you out completely!?" I very much appreciate the strenuous zeal to make me feel welcome. Trying to sit down quietly is like trying to walk through a car dealership without being noticed. (We tried that once. Walked on. Drove off). But unlike salesmen circling for potential kills in a parched economy, I feel these parishioners' intensity at worst with the very best intentions, and at best quite genuine.
Back to the point--last Sunday I had to be the new person all by myself as Husband was out of state. I had committed, in word and blog, to inviting the Canadian and his wife to hang out, and to talking to the girl I met at the young adults group. It all seemed completely doable before when I so bravely told Husband I was going to do it. I felt so proud of myself for committing. What a conqueror! I had verbally uttered a plan! So there I was sitting on the end of a row (feeling completely exposed and trying to look entirely absorbed with trying to find the exact book of the bible in which to insert my bulletin) and I saw the girl and the Canadian.
I might as well have been menstruating in the open ocean and seen Jaws swim casually by. I looked down to avoid the possibility that they might see - thus eliminating my hope that they would see me and rapidly descend with invites to be best friends forever. What in the world was I supposed to say to Cute Girl? (Husband's description--I am not actually attracted to women). I had NOTHING to say to her and NOTHING was going to come up. I noticed she had on cute shoes, but that was grasping. Stupid. People hate having their shoes complimented anyway. People hate compliments. People hate being talked to. People espeicially hate being talked to by me. Obviously if I were to open my mouth without someone's express permission that I give them a compliment they would be utterly disgusted with my obtuse personality and never make the mistake of eye contact again.
The Canadian walked by. I stood. I spoke. I'm not exactly sure what I said. However, I'm starting to very much want to be friends with him because he was seemed really happy and excited about the prospect of interaction. Saturday was no good however, as he's going to the young adults group we originally met at. Right--we were planning on going to that too but hadn't remembered. Okay, well, let's talk for a little bit longer in a semi-complete sentences right here in the middle of the aisle while people try to squeeze by us trying to find a seat in this sardine-can church...
Then the grace of God came intervened. I backed up and stepped on Cute Girl's cute shoes. Break the ice. Break someone's foot. They both work. We didn't chat right then except to both apologize for bumping in to each other. But somehow possibly injuring her made me feel ready to talk.
After church I again talked to Canandian, and met Mrs. Canadian. I was very impressed by her kind, welcoming demeanor. She's about to have a baby and it's wonderful of her to be interested in opening her life to new friends when she clearly has a lot going on. (I hope we get to hang out before they have that kid, that way we'll be in before their lives are over). We were not able to nail down a specific date for hanging out, but we'll see each other on Saturday at young adults group and will talk then. I also talked to Cute Girl. Complimented her shoes. Now it's only a matter of time before she invites me on a muffin date.
I also facebooked someone I met here asking to hang out. It was a stretch, but I'm trying to be proactive. Things are getting desperate. Work drains my will to live drop by drop and it's hard not to have someone to have fun with. I mean, a non-husband type person. When I'm with friends I remember who I am, and I like that person much more than I am when I'm sitting here alone, hating my job, wondering what's going to happen in my life, and hoping I have enough talent and committment to move closer to my dreams. Even if I never realize them, I have to move closer than this. At the very least, I have to work somewhere where murder and suicide are not alternating daydreams.
Let me end on a positive note becuase I don't like wallowing. I am blessed with the most beautiful family I could ever conceive of. My sister and mom are tireless encouragers. They both seem to have a seventy times seven approach to how many times I can call them having a mental breakdown before they stop answering the phone. The way they live their lives is inspiring. I want to be like them when I grow up. My dad is my hero. The family members I married into are all great, and I have excellent and faithful long-distance friends. Every day I love my husband more, and I serve a God who has redeemed my life and wants to use it for his kingdom. Also, the manager at Starbucks just bought me a box of tea. I hope someday someone does something small for her that means as much as what she did for me.
All my love, Katie