Discomfort

So we did this mission/retreat thing called Engage.
The point was to engage and affect the Ruston community through acts of service.
I prayed to be taken out of my comfort zone, to be made uncomfortable in the interest of obtaining growth. I distinctly remember praying "I know it won't be fun or easy. I know I won't like it while it's happening. But I also know it needs to happen if I am to progress toward You."
I prayed that Friday night. Saturday afternoon I got my wish, and I was right. I hated it.

We stood in a circle and called out number, 1-4, to ascertain our groups. Someone to my left starting the numbering, so I was one of the last people to speak and was, therefore, not paying much attention to who was going where. My group assembled by holding up four fingers and finding all the like-numbered persons. When we were all there, I looked around and realized I was the only female in my group.
My first reaction was blind panic. I held still while I let my eyes frantically scan the room for some kind of escape, some plausible reason I couldn't be alone in this group of guys. I found nothing. We all sat down, my heart racing, and began the discussion on which service acts we wanted to undertake. I thought here, for sure, I would have some say.
I wanted to wrangle buggies in the grocery store parking lots.
I wanted to clean dorm rooms.
I wanted to clean gas station bathrooms.
I wanted to do anything that didn't involve direct interaction with strangers.
Everyone else in my group wanted to shuttle the students from The Center for the Blind to wherever they needed to go.
I was vastly outnumbered.
At this point in time, I was miserable.
I wanted to be around girls. I wanted to be around friends. I wanted to be where I was comfortable.
It was only later that night that I realized I'd gotten exactly what I'd asked for, and that it was a wonderful thing - that everyone involved benefited in some way or another.

When we got to the housing for the blind students, I met Mrs. Kathy. She needed to do some shopping at Mal-Mart and was in desperate need of a female's help. As the only one in our group, the lot fell to me.
We piled into cars (I rode with Devin - not only a guy, but a guy I didn't know - and once at Wal-Mart, I was left alone with Mrs. Kathy.
I can't even begin to describe how much fun we had.
I described cuts, and colors and styles to her while she told me about herself and her family. She is, by far, one of the most interesting acquaintances I have made in a very long time. She told me she used to live in Ormond Beach, the place where my Uncle owns a beach house and where I spent much of last summer.
She told me about her three children who have remained close over their years of growing up and who, somehow, all wound up living in Atlanta.
She told me she was shopping for clothes to wear over Easter when she would go to visit them.
We met back up with the boys after a long hiatus in which we got lost, they got lost, they lost us and a mysterious cab driver showed up just in time to save the day.
Mrs Kathy and I exchanged phone numbers and e-mails and I've agreed to take her shopping whenever she needs it.
The woman is so interesting and the day was so great and once it was all over I realized it all stemmed from major discomfort that I was forced to deal with.
If I hadn't been trapped in that group of boys I would not have met Mrs. Kathy. If I hadn't met Mrs Kathy, I would have missed out on an awesome acquaintance.
The whole experience was stressful in the beginning and for most of the throughout, but so much good came from it.
Discomfort and growth do go hand in hand.