What happens on the mountain, stays on the mountain
Yes, the Women of St. Paul’s are dressed in pajamas. Why wouldn’t you combine a pajama party and a wine tasting? What’s wrong with you?
Every year, the Women of St. Paul’s adjourn to Monteagle (otherwise known as “the mountain”) for a weekend of renewal, fellowship, eating and drinking. The first year there were about 50 of us, but the word got around and this year’s retreat numbered almost 100. We learned to arrange flowers, we made felt flowers, we practiced yoga, we belly danced, we learned a newfangled form of doodling, and we made appetizers. We ate every three hours whether we needed to or not. And we had a wee bit of wine, a few appletinis and maybe one or two shots of vodka. Maybe. I know, I know. Those of you ladies who don’t attend St. Paul’s are wondering, “Where do I sign up?”
The appetizers class made all the finger food for the wine tasting. While we swapped tales, told lies and gossiped. In the nicest possible, most Christian-like way.
Well, I will modestly say that everyone had a great time and our efforts were very well received.
The Women of St. Paul’s had dinner not 20 minutes after the wine tasting ended. We are nothing if not troopers.
Alrighty. By now I assume you think all we do is carry on and tipple and eat. And belly dance. But you’d be wrong. I did a bad thing today. I took a picture in church during a service. That is so not correct. But I couldn’t help myself. Even with all our frivolous fun, the Sunday morning Eucharist is maybe the best thing that happens all weekend. Instead of a sermon, women tell their personal stories. Kleenex is abundant. The music this year was from an all-woman band. Amazing Grace. Who doesn’t cry while singing Amazing Grace? Not us. Instead of receiving communion from a priest, we give it to each other. Even if you didn’t know to say, “Body of Christ…Bread of Heaven” and “Blood of Christ…Cup of Salvation,” it was just fine to offer the wafers and wine with a “Here you go.”
‘Cause I know my time for leaving is bound to come before too long.
And there ain’t no way of me knowing how tomorrow’s gonna be,
So I’ll just dance the shores of Jordan ’till the angels carry me.”
Shores of Jordan as sung by the Women of St. Paul’s on February 9, 2014.