High Tea at the Heathman!

capture28A few weeks ago I was invited to some serious girl time: A tea party!
Not the kind I have with my little girl in the back yard, nor the kind I try my best to “recreate” when I have a few ladies over. No, I’m talking about the real thing: High Tea at the the Heathman!

Now before you suspect that I am a privileged lady who spend countless afternoons with fine china and little crumpets, let me tell it as it is: I have never been to the Heathman or any other “high” tea for that matter. Sure we’ve had tea parties in my home country in lovely tea gardens, and my grandma and I used to go to a tea shop for tea and scones. However, having high tea at a prestigious hotel was some mysterious experience I’ve only heard of.

The fun started as soon as a dear friend extended a generous invitation to me. I accepted eagerly, but the minute I put the phone down my roller coaster ride began. One day I would be all excited and the next day I would wonder what in the world I was going to wear, if my purse that survived four children would do, and if the nail polish that’s been sitting in my closet for two years was still any good.

So a few days ago the big day came and I end up wearing my trusted black pants and a blouse with a hint of the “girly-girl” hidden deep inside me. I actually went out and bought myself a new purse: I still miss my old one, I can not find my keys or cell phone for the life of me! As for the homemade manicure, yeah, that never happened.

Great was my relief to find my friends just the way they were a week ago. Granted, we all dressed up a little, but for the most part they were just the girls I love.

When the moment arrived we were seated in cushy chairs at a picture perfect table, surrounded by breath taking architecture and interior design. I felt nervous, this was it, the moment of truth: Do I have enough “lady” in me to pull this off? To my relief things started unraveling fast: We didn’t realize we were suppose to wait for the waiter to pour our tea, I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find the little thingy where you’re suppose to put the other thingy, and we laughed…

All pretentiousness lost, we relaxed. We discussed the scrumptious delicacies while poking at it with tiny forks, and we drank tea from small cups with elevated pinkies (okay not so much the pinkies). In the end we were all just girls talking and laughing; different ages, different cultures, different personalities, but the same. We shared an amazing high tea, but I was more aware of the fact that we shared similar fears, insecurities, loves, heart aches and passions.

On the way home we had a moment where all masks dropped to the ground and I felt myself blurt out one of my deepest fears. So am I proud of myself for being so open and honest? Off course not! Today I wonder what they must think of me, but I smile when I suspect they worry about the same thing.

Us girl folk are really much more alike than we realize, especially those of us who love God. Yes, we bug each other and we get on each others’ nerves. We perceive some of our friends to be too open and we accuse others of not being real. We envy our skinny friends and feel just a little bit of pride that we don’t look like others, but in the end we stop… and we see only the hearts… and it’s beautiful. If you know a woman who loves God, you can just wait it out, it’s just a matter of time before her heart will show, and it will look very similar to the heart you carry, the heart of Jesus…

Goodness knows, I need more girl time! The evening after the tea party I went looking for a facial mask that I’ve had for months. To the surprise of my family, I locked myself in the bathroom and had some long overdue me-time. I realized again how other women bring us in touch with the girly side of us that God made so special.

We get lost in the swamp of careers, husbands, children, ministry, laundry and dishes. That’s why we sometimes need the manicured hand of a girl friend, with a beautiful heart, to pull us out and remind us: You are an amazing and unique daughter of the King…

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