Tea party people

 Last Friday I attended the ladies’ tea party, an annual event sponsored by the Residents Association in our retirement community. This was a first for me. In the past I’ve not gone, reasoning that I am not a “tea party person.” I’m not. I’m more at home walking a trail in the forest or staying inside reading a good book. My idea of a successful social occasion is conversation among a few close friends. Something you don’t have to dress up for.

But I had heard so many positive comments about last year’s tea party, I thought I’d give it a try. Good publicity helped. Plus, I had a new outfit (that wasn’t jeans) and I needed an occasion to wear it. That’s probably not a good reason—but there you have it. I was concerned that I didn’t have any matching white sandals, but then again, my black sandals would be way down at the bottom of my outfit, so who would even notice?

To assure some ease in what might be an uncomfortable situation, I invited myself to go with two friends I normally enjoy spending time with. That was a good decision.

We were told to bring our own tea cup and to wear a hat—both optional. I chose a flowery cup and saucer from my mother’s wedding china. Most of the pieces from this set have been broken over the years, but I’m sentimental about the pieces that are left, even though I never use them. This would be a good chance to put the cup and saucer to use.

I didn’t bother with a hat. All hats make me look like an idiot. But I enjoyed the hats some of the other ladies wore. Some were lovely, others silly, but all worn with a sense of stylish fun.

The party’s theme was “Butterflies and Lilacs” (very tea-party-ish) because this is the time of year when lilacs bloom. The only problem, no one had sent the lilacs an invitation, so out of spite they bloomed early, leaving the decorations committee with a dilemma. Which they cleverly solved by tucking some realistic fake lilacs into the folded napkins.

All in all, the tea party was fine. The decorations, the food and its beautiful presentation, the musical entertainment, and the handsome tuxedoed waiters (resident volunteers)—well done!

And yet, for reasons mysterious to me, I was never able to ease into the tea partyness of it all. I felt awkward and out of place, like a young girl in a room of grown-ups, wondering which fork to use, thinking I might be inappropriately dressed, wishing it would get over so I could go home. My adolescent self seemed to take over. I thought I had outgrown that kind of reaction, so it surprised me.

At the conclusion of the event, I said my goodbyes, gracefully exited and went up the five floors to our apartment, only to realize I had left my mom’s tea cup behind. So down five floors, into the auditorium, pick up the cup, back up five floors to my door, only to realize I had left my purse. So down five floors, into the auditorium…and so on. By the time I was finally able to shut my door, change into my jeans and sit down, I was ready for a good laugh. Which helped clear out the fog in my spirit.

The thought, “I guess I really am not a tea party person!” made me smile. And it occurred to me that there is probably no such thing as a “tea party person.” To divide the feminine half of the human race into two categories—tea party people and non-tea party people—is categorically ridiculous. What were you thinking, Nancy? I imagine many of the women who enjoyed the event also enjoy walking in the forest, reading books, and talking with close friends. And there were probably a few others like me on the fringes of comfort.

I admire people who are so comfortable with who they are they are at ease in many different situations. Adaptable. Flexible. Women who can wear a hat to a tea party, no matter how silly it might make them look. I’m reminded of the Apostle Paul who said he had learned to be equally content whether he was living in poverty or in plenty. That’s the context of his famous testimony, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13).

I’m obviously not there yet. But just because I’m “of a certain age” doesn’t mean I can’t change. Maybe I’ll try the tea party again next year. And maybe I won’t. Probably doesn’t matter much. What matters is growing into who I am in Christ and being at ease (it’s called peace) with whatever he wants me to do, wherever he wants me to go.

Even if it’s a tea party.