Glorieta, New Mexico
Psalm 121
I was at a low point in my life.
The year was 1966. My college
career was not going as it should. I had attended Northwestern University in
Natchitoches, Louisiana in 1963. I was
depressed, did some bodily harm to myself, and flunked out. Returning home, my dad told me that I could
spend the rest of my life working on the farm or with his pest control
business. I had no idea what I was even
doing on this earth, but made the decision to apply to Louisiana College in
Pineville, Louisiana and try again.
Anything could be better than his option. By 1965 I was a junior majoring in art
education. I had a setback. My grades were poor except in my major. I was on a downward spiral and all those
life-long tapes of my insecurities and poor self-worth were playing in a
continuous loop. Friends had no idea
that good ole’ happy-go-lucky Nippy was depressed. I was a master at hiding my real
emotions. I seriously, but briefly,
thought of dropping out of school or worse harming my body again, momentarily. But what would I do if I did drop out? What could an art major with poor math skills
ever find to do? Stay home and work for
my daddy? That would only make my poor
self-image become even worse. I had
spent most of my life feeling I could not measure up to the potential I felt my
father expected of me as the eldest son.
To make matters worse, he had already planned my summer. I was to crawl under houses and search for
termites for his pest control business.
I hated spaces under houses and had nightmares about spiders and snakes
in those dark crevices.
At my lowest moment, a solution
came to me at church. I still attended
because I wasn’t ready to expose my true feelings to friends. It was a Wednesday night at prayer meeting,
and I sat there with a blank expression on my face not really believing in a
God anymore. There was a slide show
presentation about summer jobs open to college students at Glorieta Baptist
Encampment, the Southern Baptist Convention’s assembly in Glorieta, New Mexico,
not far from Santa Fe. My friend elbowed
me in the side and said, “You would be great working there. Let’s apply for this summer. New Mexico’s weather must be better than ours
and it’s near Santa Fe. Beautiful art is
there.” I had never worked anywhere
except for my daddy at his pest control or in hot, humid hay fields on the
farm. I had never even been away from
home alone. I told him, “No!”
WE applied and I
was hired because my friend chose, at the last minute, to find a better paying
summer job. I was petrified, I had never
been out west before and never taken off on my own. I had issues with change, I was insecure,
depressed, and mad at being abandoned by a friend.
I had heard about Glorieta all my life while
growing up in Emmanuel Baptist. It was a summer retreat for Baptists and their
families to enjoy the mountains and fresh air of the west. It was a place where one could pray in a
beautiful garden filled with glorious flowers and streams; a place of learning,
Bible study and singing; a place to hike down well-traveled trails, climb
mountains and watch sun rises at dawn. A place to relax, take a deep breath and
become closer to God. It was a
retreat. People came from all over to
spend a week at this peaceful haven in the Sangre de Cristo mountains. Older teenagers from our church had worked
there before and loved it. When I
discovered others from different Baptist churches in town would be working
there also, I decided to be brave, friend or no friend.
At Glorieta, college students took care of
everything for these people during the summer.
The students worked in the dining hall serving tables, cleaning, and
cooking meals. They worked as maids in
the different cottages, worked in the post office, gas station, gift shop,
washateria, and at the registration desk.
There were students to take care of everyone’s needs, including
recreation and the children. This was
the escape I needed to find my true self, to help my depression.
Our job was to make sure the
guests that came for the different weeks during the summer were
comfortable. It was hard work. Especially in the kitchen where they slaved
over hot stoves and delivered food to tables as well as scrubbed pots and
pans. We were the hired hands by day andexpected to attend church services every evening as
well.
When my junior semester was
almost finished, I took a deep breath and cornered my daddy as to my change of
plans for the summer. He did not take
this well, especially when he discovered the low pay I would receive. Words
were said that didn’t help my self-esteem.
I needed to get away, to think with a clear head and perhaps I could
discover myself away from the depressing state I felt I was in. It needed to be
a summer of discovery. I needed some
breathing room. I stormed out angry.
So, I packed my bags and rode a
Trailways bus to Santa Fe, New Mexico where I met a staff member that took me
to the encampment. I was inundated with
self-doubt on that whole trip. Until I
arrived. The scenery was beautiful. The mountains enveloped me in their arms, and
I felt at home. I felt that here I could be the real me, not the face I seemed
to put on in front of others at home.
There was something about those mountains that made me feel safe.
I had been assigned to work in
the children's building. This was the
building where birth through sixth grade children stayed while parents had their
own conferences. I was the janitor, assigned to clean and mop all the rooms
each evening, empty trash and get the rooms ready for the next day. Teachers from Nashville came each week to
lead the children in a Vacation Bible school.
My mornings were free, and my afternoons were spent performing my
janitorial duties.
I made friends. We became close to each other during our free
times between new people arriving. We
participated in groups that led evening worship with songs, dramas, and just
fun mini retreats for ourselves and for the evening services.
I became one of the leaders in the drama
group, where we rehearsed and performed for ourselves, we even made a film for
the convention that was distributed to churches everywhere. We performed skits, comedies, had talent
shows, and evening devotions around a campfire.
We became a close-knit family of college students enjoying hard work
without the stress of studies.
It was fortuitous that I would be assigned the
children’s building. It must have been
God’s plan. I loved working with
children. Each week was different and
equally exciting. Music week had all the
best church musicians lead the evening services, Sunday School week had great
Bible teachers, WMU week and Brotherhood week had excellent speakers. I joined the choir and sang at the evening
conferences. I was beginning to let down
my guard and allow my friendly self-re-emerge.
I no longer felt so self-absorbed or depressed.
Instead of being on my own in the
mornings, I began hanging out around the children’s building to see if they
needed help. When a teacher needed a
third hand in a classroom, I became an aide.
I helped cut and paste and work on their bulletin boards. It wasn’t long
before I was leading the children on hikes around the area while teachers
prepared a new lesson. I became a baby
whisperer when a child in the nursery couldn’t be calmed.
I became more than the janitor at the
children’s building.
I found time to climb “Old Baldy” in the dark
and watch the sunrise peak over the mountains huddled close to friends for
warmth. And then it happened. It was here in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains
overlooking the campground that God breathed new life into me. We sat silently on an outcropping of the
mountain, feeling the wind surround us, pulling our sweaters tighter around our
shoulders for warmth. We had a brief
devotion and prayer for the day. The sun was just peaking over the mountain in
the east. That’s when I felt His
presence. It was there that He spoke to
me. He breathed new life into me. It was a very vivid moment. I left that mountain a better person.
The summer of 1966 became one of
my favorite jobs ever. At the end of the
summer, we elected favorites. I was not
expecting it, but that summer I was elected one of the favorites. I left there with lifelong friendships and a
new respect for myself. I had a
motivation to continue school. I didn’t
need to return as the quiet, reclusive art major. The summer I dreaded had become a turning
point in my life.
I may have felt God breathe on me
in those New Mexico mountains, but it was only later that I
realized he was breathing on me that night on the mountain
and when a friend encouraged me to step out on faith and apply for the
job.
We never know what paths we might
travel on our journey, but I do know that by my opening myself to God that He
began directing my path.
I think it sad that today
Glorieta Baptist Assembly no longer exists but am ever grateful that I have
treasured memories and life-long friends.
Oh, I still have my doubts and
insecurities, even depression on rare occasions but I know that by staying close to
God that I can weather anything.
© Nippy Blair 2015.
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