Around 5:30 this evening, with dinner simmering on the stove, I put on a coat, grabbed my keys, and walked down the street to pick up the mail. It was nearly dark, but as I walked home, I thumbed through the large collection of envelopes, magazines, and shopping ads. One envelope, addressed to me, had a handwritten note on the front: "personal." Intrigued, I slid the envelope open with a finger in the fading light.
On the driveway the red and green Christmas lights on my house provided enough light to read the letter.
On behalf of the Women's Conference Committee, it is my pleasure to invite you to participate as a presenter in the BYU Women's Conference, to be held April 28 and 29, 2011.
That's when I stopped reading. I couldn't really think.
I threw open the front door, dropped the rest of the mail and raced downstairs, where Garry was sitting with his dad and the kids. There I flipped on the lights, interrupted conversations, and read the whole letter aloud. I was laughing as I read. Was this really happening? To me?
But apparently it is happening. I have exchanged emails with the friend on the Women's Conference committee who submitted my name for approval. I have formally accepted the invitation to present. I am humbled...and kind of excited!
How crazy is that?