(This is a true story, although I took some liberties with the details to promote flow and interest. Names have been changed to protect the guilty - and the innocent.)
We pile into the car amidst feelings of excitement and anticipation. The crisp morning air bites our faces and whips us out of our early-morning grog.
Suitcases? Check. Cooler? Check. Portable CD player and books for the long car ride? Check.
“Think we forgot anything?” Mom asks playfully.
I smirk good-naturedly. “Probably.”
“We’re off!” my younger sister Carolyn announces.
I watch Carolyn’s face as she concentrates on the horse arena. Her eyes dart back and forth as they follow the horses in their intricate dance routine. I turn my attention toward the arena and watch the rest of the show. It has been a good day. We are here with members of our 4-H group, learning how horses are trained and cared for, and tonight, we will have a girls’ night in our leaders’ hotel room.
It is dark when we finally walk across the street from our hotel to theirs.
“Could you tell us which room number Karen Shorten is staying in?” Mom asks the desk clerk. “We are attending the horse exhibition together and she invited us to come and visit in her room.”
“Certainly,” the clerk replies graciously. “Shorten was the last name?...She’s in Room 115.”
“Thank you very much.” We head down the quiet, groomed hallway and round the corner. We stop in front of the door marked “115.”
Mom knocks twice, then, mischievously, leans in close to the door and chants in a low, sing-song voice, “Little pig, little pig, let us in or we’ll blow your house down!”
Carolyn and I giggle in delight. We can’t wait to see the look on Mrs. Shorten’s face when she opens the door.
All was quiet in the room for the next few seconds, then the door cracks open.
Mom’s face pales. Our eyes grow as big as cereal bowls.
A strange man stares at us from inside the room.
“Yes?” he asks gruffly. The dark room behind him tells us he had probably been sleeping.
“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Mom stammers. “We thought this was our friend’s room. Sorry for disturbing you…goodnight!”
We hurry back to the front desk. Mom explains to the desk clerk that we had gone to the wrong room and asks her to check the room number again.
The woman searches her computer. “Did I tell you the number was 115?” she asks tiredly.
“Yes, you did,” Mom replies.
The clerk looks up at us again, a little upset. “It’s Room 151.”
“Well, thank you very much,” Mom says politely, and we proceed to Room 151. This time, Mom chants no “little pig, little pig” ditty, and to our relief the right face opens the door. We walk in and have been telling the story ever since.
I wonder if that man in Room 115 likes to tell stories, too…
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW
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