Whoever Invented Tug-of-War Must Have Been the Fat Kid in School Who Always Got out First in Dodgeball

This Sunday through Wednesday will be our church’s 14th annual Missions Conference. This event is one of the biggest and best of Harvest; but, of course, it could never be made possible without the behind the scenes work done by the wonderful members of our church and its staff. We have families who, out of the goodness of their hearts, open their homes to allow the missionaries and their families to stay with them, eat home-cooked meals, and fellowship; ladies who spend all day in the kitchen cooking and baking for the conferences’ luncheon; a special music team that picks and practices the most amazing and inspiring music to minister; a group of decorators who every year come and hang the flags and trim the auditorium with the most tasteful and lovely accents; and staff and faculty who spend hours upon hours assembling programs, guides, bulletins, and schedules to ensure that all goes smoothly.

It is to be expected, I suppose, that with an undertaking of this magnitude, there will be chaos within the two days prior to the “kick off,” so to speak. So this year and last, I’ve taken the Friday before the Conference off so that I could come into the office with my mom. She is our pastor’s/ church’s secretary and is responsible for MUCH of the organization for these events. Sure, she doesn’t stand behind the pulpit or speak for the groups, but she composes, prints, and assembles the booklets/bulletins/announcements/etc. for those that do. Often she’ll stay until midnight the two nights before the event just to get everything finished. I come in to help with what I can – running places, folding things – whatever I can do to make her life easier.

This morning, I was able to sleep two hours longer than usual, which was a blessing. I got up, grabbed my towel and fresh clothing, and went to take a shower. I closed the door and locked it, then went on with my routine. When I finished, I unlocked the door and tried to exit. This is where the significance of my title comes into play. The lock, which got bent slightly when one of my family members, in a fit of anger, slammed the door while the bolt was sticking out. So when I “unlocked” the door this morning, the bolt didn’t come out of the wall the entire way. Our bathroom door opens inward too, so I couldn’t even through my body against it. So I tugged a couple more times with just my hand, then had to plant my feet and (with two hands) hold the knob and pull as hard as I could. This is how it must feel to play tug-of-war. In my opinion, there can’t be much skill involved: it seems to me that the team with the most weight behind them wins. The Biggest Losers would be the guaranteed winners. It took me four hard pulls before I was able to free myself from the bathroom. Hopefully this is no indication of how the rest of my day will go…