I went to a Church Youth Conference and it was a ton of fun. When we got there, that night was a dance which ended around 11:00 P.M. or so. Since we were out of town, we were assigned houses to stay the night at. The people who owned the homes were members of the church so it was going to be fine. After the dance, the leader who was our driver got the directions to the house we would be staying at. Several wrong turns later, we were finally on Elm Street looking frantically for 714. Unfortuanlly for us, this area seemed less civilized and therefore seemed to believe having the house number clearly visible was for babies. We drove up and down the street at least ten times before we decided the lamp post which had something inscribed on it which looked vaugualy like T1A (and we decided must be 714) we drove up to the house. There were no lights on in the house, but Mrs. Bearch (The leader) and I (as the oldest young woman and the youth leader) decided to check it out. This was what we saw (or pretty close to it).
So as you can imagine, we, or at least I was slightly scared. Mrs. Bearch and I went up to the house and knocked on the door. No one answered, but then I saw this. . .
Sorry, the picture is upside down. Anyway, there was a key on a nail right near the door. The following conversation occurred between Mrs. Bearch and me.
Me: I want to go home
Bearch: I think we should use the key
Me: I want my mom! And some hot chocolate, and a nice warm bed.
Bearch: Maybe they had to go somewhere and left the key for us to get inside?
Me: My mom always told me to not talk to strangers
Bearch: Come on Bex! Let's go, you want to sleep in a house tonight right?
Me: I just want. . . . not to sleep in this house.
Bearch: Don't worry, nothing bad is going to happen, besides, I know how to handle a gun.
Me:
(How was a nonexistent gun going to help me? But I was interested in hearing how Mrs. Bearch knew how to handle a gun. That was not something I would have guessed from her quiet caring nature.)
Mrs. Bearch then took the key and opened the door. The door creaked open as if it had not been used in a long time. When we walked in I searched for a light and I flicked the switch. There was a lot of dirt. . . everywhere. It seemed as if we had walked into a work place. A red workbench stuck out in one corner and a few dusty jars of fruit preserves stood on a grimy counter. My stomach did a nauseous turn-over.
Me: I don't want to sleep here.
Bearch: I'm NOT going to sleep here. I will stay in my car if this is the other option.
Both of us practically ran back to the car and we all headed back to the church where the dance was. We all used phones to call one of the Guy leaders who had a GPS to help us. We knew we had gotten to the right house, but if there was any chance it wasn't the right one, well, I wanted to sleep in a warm place not filled with grime.
While we waited, there was a group of teenagers who were at a house across from the church. They looked scary and I voted to pray or call the cops on them for loitering at their own house and frightening poor innocent out-of-towners.
A few minutes later, a police man came and drove up to the group. All I could think was, this kind of thing is not supposed to happen on a church trip. There was probably going to be a shoot out right then and there. The group apparently knew the policeman, and after a few friendly words, he left.
A few more minutes passed, and the group kept looking at us and then finally one member of the group spoke out.
Teen: Are you going to toilet-paper our house?
We were all slightly shocked, we would never do any such thing to a perfect stranger!! Now a friend was a different matter.
Bearch: Of course not, we are just waiting for someone. Sorry for bothering you.
Teen: Oh OK, thanks!!
Whatever, stupid teens (Oops, I am a teen). We waited for a few minutes and the leader came and with his hand-dandy GPS showed us the right way. I'm sure Mrs. Bearch and I both had heart attacks when he led us right up to the house we had recently vacated.
Then, he made a left turn and led us down a man-made mountain where at the end was another house with the same inscription of T1A but next to it was the letter G. Apparently the first house we had been in was the landlords house for a group of rental houses with the same number.
I nearly cried with happiness when we walked into the nice warm and pink house of Mrs. Greaber. We told her about our mishap and she laughed and laughed. Then she told us that it was just fine we had gone into the wrong house because the man who owned it was never there, and it was lucky he wasn't because he would have "blown you to smithereens."
I went to bed that night and tried to say an apologetic pray that night because I had, without a doubt, helped to break into a house.
The next morning after a wonderful breakfast, we drove back out of the little rental house area and as we passed the scary house, all of us turned to look as a big pile of muscle and beard entered the house. All I can say is that I am glad we didn't die.
So, all in all, in one weekend, I broke and entered a house, almost witnessed a shoot-out, and of course was spiritually edified. It was exhausting. Have a great week!!
Bex
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