It never ceases to surprise me that the annual marriage conference goes off without a hitch. I do not mean that no one actually says "I do" during our time together, although twice we have included Renewal of Vows ceremonies that were very tender. Being on the altar with a dozen other couples all promising to be faithful is a boost to a relationship chugging on cruise control.

But how is it that a hundred people manage to clear their schedules, show up with a passel of kids, or just themselves ready to step into growth? We try to make the transition friendly enough, with fruit and bagels, name tags and smiling faces. But it still take grit to say "I am here."

The logistics around the buildings which sometimes include a mansion, a theater, an elementary school, a ceramics studio, and a metals lab can be, well, complicated. There are enough hoops to keep the NBA busy. Yet we have been blessed thus far to have no calamities that flattened us. Over the past eleven years there were a few people who whisked off to the ER, and the fire alarm sent us all outside to shiver in the snow banks. The power went off at my house, which made life as the conference director edgy. John has wrestled with copying machines all night, and there are always the inevitable last minute cancellations by presenters that keep me in a state of alert. 

But people seem willing to shift to another workshop, or chat until the fire department gives the all clear. They make the effort to speak to someone standing awkwardly alone, and wait in a lunch line that snakes around the corner. Kind people volunteer in the children's program, graciously answer questions long after the workshop slot is past, and clean up abandoned coffee cups. 

I find it all astonishing.