From our hotel you follow a forgotten stairwell to access the skyway which lands you in the Hyatt across the street which at some point becomes the convention center. The problem is that you go up, then go down, then go up, but it’s never clear what floor you’re on. You know you’re there when you find the people. The bathrooms are up and the coffee’s down. I guess if you know that, it’s all you really need.

Some designer, sometime, decided that what the Hotel/Convention complex needed was a bunch of matching carpet, all with the same pattern, but in different colors. So if you’re wandering along without a clue as to where precisely you are, what you do notice is the maze is patchworked into different blocks of maroon, orange, blue, gold, teal and brown-grey. It’s kind of like Oz–each land represented by a different color. Most people haven’t noticed, but when I point it out, it drives them nuts too. Why blue there? Why gold there? Didn’t they have enough of any particular color? Once you notice the Carpet Thing, you can’t stop.

For me the theological point to this first day lostness is the learned certainty that by Wednesday I’ll actually know where I am. The routes will have become familiar and I’ll have a good shot at finding the exhibit hall even if I’m the only one headed that direction. Walk the labyrinth enough times and the strange becomes home. A temporary one. There’s gotta be a theological insight to milk from the carpet. I’m sure of it.

My second mission is to sweep through the exhibit hall. I look like I’m on a meet and greet of old GA friends. What I’m actually searching out is the best freebies to take home to the Princess. When you land the really good ones, you produce them at the homecoming ceremony as "presents." Graham assures me that once Meredith really learns to read, the marker with the insurance company’s name on the side loses its gift value. I figure this is the last year I can get by with stuffing the tote bag full of gifts at GA’s expense. Some of the give-aways are really cool. The best is the PMM yarmulke frisbee. This nifty gizmo sails across the room, but also can protect bald spots from the sun. I have visions of disgruntled commissioners flinging them at mike number 6 when the proceedings get heated. Or putting them on their heads to pray. Even Graham will like it, I think. Also of Meredith value are the foil pinwheels and the spongee squishy church (since you can safely jump on it or throw it at the wall I may keep that one for myself.) The Triennium is giving away loads of hats they didn’t sell at the Triennium. The same kids who wouldn’t wear them at the Triennium are pinning buttons with conflicting slogans on them and wearing them in hordes; they’re the Now fashion statement. There’s an excitement in the exhibit hall the first day, when everyone has mastered set-up and nobody is tired yet. Nobody’s run out of m & m’s or conversation. You would never know, listening to the happy buzz in the room that we Presbyterians have ever been prone to fight about anything.

What’s amazing is the intricate patchwork of different agencies, division units, advocacy groups, mission concerns. This, I think to myself, is the best of who and what we are. Each booth is staffed by people of courage, who’ve dared to become incarnate in one cause. Not trying to do it All, they do their best to do one thing well. The room is filled with people who’ve found their Passion. If you look hard, you see the same pattern running through all the shifting colors. Maybe, by Wednesday say, the rest of us will have found our direction and way through to the One Place we come round right.