I painstakingly signed my name to the Princess House Consultant Application and then slid the application across the table to Charity. She glanced at it, to be sure that I had filled every thing out correctly. Then she turned her attention to me.
"The Lifeblood of our business is our bookings," she said. "Before I send in your application to Princess House, you have to find 6 bookings. 6 people who would want to have a party for you."
I was aghast. I didn't even know if I knew 6 people who would be kind enough to help me. However, Charity pulled out another paper. "Do you know Franc?" she asked me. "Maybe Franc can help."
"Franc?" I asked with raised eyebrows.
"Yes. Franc stands for Friends, Relatives, Acquaintances, Neighbors, & Co-Workers."
So I began writing down the names of every one I could think of. Before we parted, she had also given me words to say to my friends. She also told me to call her when I got my first party booked.
(Do you know what Princess House is? Just in case you're new to it, click on the "Click Me" button to see what Princess House is.)
I managed to get 4 parties booked, but I couldn't seem to cough up 6. Charity ordered my kit anyway, and I was thrilled with it. I carefully washed all of the show dishes, found a nice tablecloth, strung some lights around the dishes, and tried to imagine myself being a consultant.
EJ was highly amused by the amount of time I lingered by my kit. He told me that he hoped it went well for me, but I could tell he wasn't sure if I would really ever make a go of it, or not.
My mom, on the other hand, was horrified that I would ever do such a thing. She was not so impressed with my choice. Because of her reaction, I chose not to tell too many people at my church about my new hobby...I didn't want a visit from the bishop. I'd find my customers elsewhere.
My first party was on October 10, 2008, Charity came and did the first party for me. I listened carefully as she spoke. That one party was all of the training I got.
I did the next party, and then the third one canceled, and the fourth one didn't do so well. And I didn't get bookings at most of them, and the bookings I got, didn't date right away
I did like the paycheck that I did get. But how in the world could I keep going?
I was sad. Maybe my mom was right, that I couldn't really do this for a job.
Weeks turned into months.
I ended up walking the neighborhood and knocking on doors to get orders. I talked to people when I pumped gas. I'd go to the store with no purpose but a faint hope that I would talk to the people in the store aisles about Princess House. To my shock, I actually sold more to people in the grocery stores and gas stations than I thought I would, that first year.
I held parties at my house, but was discouraged to hear my guests tell me with a laugh, "You know, we really only came for the food." One night in particular, I glared angrily at the leftover food as I put it away after the party was over, and every one had left. I had used all of our grocery money for 2 whole weeks...just on this party alone. I had tried to demonstrate as many dishes as I could. But I hadn't sold anything. I crossly vowed and declared to myself that I would never ever go to any party again as a guest, unless I was able to buy at least one thing to support the consultant. I went to bed sick with worry about how I was going to to pay for my groceries the next couple of weeks.
Charity told me that I needed to attend workshops, but I wasn't so sure. So far, this new business wasn't thriving like I wanted it to. She insisted, so I'd drive into Lancaster County, an hour and 40 minutes, just to go to an evening workshop. It usually started around 7, and ended around 9. Then I'd drive back home, hoping and praying that whatever I had learned would pay for my gas.
I learned that I was one of two Mennonites that Charity had signed up. I also learned that Charity had been told several years or so before, that she'd never get the Plain People to buy or sell Princess House. Charity had taken on the comment as a challenge, and she may have had approximately 10 or more Amish ladies signed up when I joined. The Amish and Beachy Amish Consultants seemed to do well with the business. But I did not.
Months passed.
In the meantime, EJ and I were both facing difficulties. I don't want to go into too much detail here on this blog.
But often, I would lay awake at night and cry...I was not even sure that I was saved. If I died tonight, where would I go? And I was so confused about all of the rules and bishop statements the church continually preached about. It seemed that I couldn't remember, live up to, or follow all the rules. Was the Christian Life supposed to be so complicated? The unrest grew in my heart. I was very unsettled about church. Whenever we drove into the church parking lot, and discovered that the bishop was at church that morning, I was instantly sick on my stomach. I was afraid of him.
At the same time, EJ was struggling with his own issues. After awhile I realized that I couldn't please him no matter how much I tried. I felt worthless.
One day, I called someone who I thought could help me...a minister's wife. I told her that I was at my wit's end, and that I couldn't go on like this: I needed to know if I was really saved or not. "Are you having your personal devotions?" was her question. Yes, I was, but something was wrong, I told her. But she had no help to give, except that perhaps I was to be a more disciplined person. I disgustedly hung up the phone, and pondered on her words all day. For being married to a preacher, she sure didn't give a lot of hope. I felt more condemned than ever. I also felt like the goal that she had held up was unattainable to me.
Finally, out in the corn patch that afternoon as I weeded, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I knelt between those rows, and I prayed, "Dear God, Please help me. I can't please the church, I can't please EJ, and I can't make a go of this business. And who knows what kind of mom I am? I don't even know if I am saved or not. Whatever it takes, Lord, bring me to Yourself, and let me Know in my being that I am saved." I meant it, all the way down in the depth of my soul, and somehow, I knew that God had heard my prayer, and that He would answer.
As I look back on that prayer today, I realize that from that moment on, my life as I knew it then, began to fall apart.
Shortly after that, one evening as I drove to Lancaster County for another Princess House Workshop, I listened to a cassette of a preacher who preached on "Being a Son." He told with great detail about the benefits of being a Son of God, and I listened intently. The sermon fell like rain on the dry, thirsty soil of my heart, and as I drove, I prayed. "Dear God, I want to be a daughter of Yours," I prayed, and I rededicated my heart to Jesus. The peace was indescribable.
I held a Princess House party that fall of 2009, and I was excited. For the first time, my party just might be successful. There were over 15 women coming. I drove over 2 hours to the party, did my utmost best...only to sell $50.
As I listened to the chatter of the women, I discovered that some of the husbands were against a business like Princess House...had quoted a verse...something about silly women going from house to house...and had influenced a fair portion of the women's husbands to tell their wives not to buy. Once again, I heard the words, "We came just for the food."
I had used the last bit of money in our checking account to buy gas to attend that party. I'd have to wait several days until EJ got paid. What would we do? I had been so hoping that it would work. That night, I bawled my eyes out on the way home. I even called Charity. "I can not continue to do this business," I sobbed to her. "I can't afford it. That dream I had, it was just a stupid old dream...a fantasy. I can't do this," I cried.
"Glenda, you are planting seeds," she told me. "Seeds that are planted, eventually sprout, and then grow. Someday, you will see the results." She spoke words of Hope and Life to me, and I clung to them desperately. Those words brought peace to me, and I didn't have many people who spoke Life to me like Charity did. "Don't give up," she said again. "Someday, you will reap a bountiful harvest. If you quit today, you just might quit one day too soon."
I dried my tears. "Who knew? One day? Could the whole thing turn around in one day?" I thought.
Maybe she was right. What if she was right?
I decided, as I sniffed back a final sob, that I wouldn't give up just yet.
I'd hold out just a little bit longer....
P.S. This is just my story in my perspective. In no way am I trying to disrespect others by anything I write here. I am not encouraging any negative comments against the failures we may have as Anabaptist Churches. I am not even condoning the way that I walked. I am only telling the story, and you can take it or leave it. I guess the story can speak for itself.
I am very grateful for the upbringing I have had, for it taught me about Jesus. Somehow, I seemed to have missed a good portion of teaching on eternal security, and I blame that on myself, and no one else. I also wonder what else I missed that the ministers were trying to teach. All I knew was that my heart, as a young mom, was aching and empty, and I was sure that there was a Better Way to live than how I was living at the time.
Also, I believe that I had fallen into the trap of making my husband my identity, instead of finding it in Jesus. This Princess House story is intertwined with my journey to finding my identity and faith in Jesus Christ alone...not finding it in being a wife, not in being a mom, not in attending the most safe church, not in my business...but in finding my identity in Jesus Christ. He alone is the only True Way to Life.
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