In a couple of weeks I will join 900 close personal friends for an assembly. Well, we may not be friends yet, but with the help of a name tag we soon will be. Twenty women showed up to help chop the printed inserts to fit the red lanyards, all while keeping things in alphabetical order. The back of the name tag has a schedule, including times and places, to help those of us who signed up two months ago and don't quite remember our workshop choices. 

 

It was friendly. At times a tad too friendly, in that we got distracted from the tasks at hand, which were both sequential and fairly precise. If I cut too closely to the name on the front, the details on the back were sacrificed. If I didn't double-check the thickness of the plastic, I sometimes used two instead of one. When I picked from the pile of names beginning with J instead of those starting with P things got jumbled. 

 

It all reminded me of the thirteen years of marriage conferences John and I spearheaded. I would have been content with those stickers you write your name on, but John had a pattern of staying up all night wrestling with the printer to accomplish what these name tags did, in terms of spelling out where to go and when. It was a nice touch. He was bent on people finding their way. 

 

Our first conference drew a crowd a third the size of the upcoming assembly, and then it settled down to a comfortable hundred. But in the event later this month there will be a splash of people from ten countries, who all feel drawn to spending time together in community. I get to sing with the children, which is a cushy gig indeed. 

 

The array of workshops available is enticing, including topics like good listening, education, motherhood, and ethics in the workplace. It is my prayer that people will walk away with a handful of memories and good friends.