I was flying out the next day, and, because the thing was happening in one of my chicks’ bucket list locations, the family went with me. I called the hotel number the other evening to check the room and the details. The agent said I couldn’t make changes because it was a secure reservation. She asked if I did that and I told her no.
“Who made the reservation then,” she asked.
I hesitated and told her that I was doing a thing and the people at the studio did it. “Oh,” she said. “Well, Miss Amy Jo Hutchison, I’m gonna be watching for you.”
I laughed. She said, “What’d you do to get to do that?”
I told her about the Congressional video that went viral and that these folks had run across it and offered a conversation. “I almost turned them down because I thought I had no place doing that. It’s awkward for me to talk about,” I said.
She said, “Honey, are they flying you out there and paying for your hotel?”
“Yes.”
“Well, hasn’t anyone taught you that you never turn down anything that’s free? You don’t know what will come out of this for you. For all you know, Oprah will see you on there and have you on her show. You don’t go turning down opportunity because you don’t know what God is going to do with this, Amy Jo. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a lump in my throat.
“When can I see it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s your phone number? Give me your phone number so I can call you and find out when I can see you,” she said, and I, as if being asked for my phone number by a hotel agent was the most natural thing in the world, gave it to her. “I’m going to tell my daughter to help me find it. What are you going to talk about?”
“Poverty and the economy.”
“Miss Amy Jo, I know all about being poor, but I know more about being po’. That’s p.o., po’. I mean, picking cotton in Alabama po’. Having two pairs of shoes: one for church and one for school po’. And if it was raining or muddy, you took those church shoes off and walked to church barefooted because you can’t get those shoes ruined.”
We continued to talk. I found out that she lived in Chicago most of her life but couldn’t take the cold anymore so she moved to Texas five years ago where she became a hotel agent and worked from her home. She moved there and wanted to be a foster parent but can’t afford rent for a bigger home. She’s 70 years old and no one believes it; she doesn’t look her age and hopes that she never will. I know that she doesn’t have Facebook because she tells her sister that all people do on there is run their dirty business down. She talked about how people make it big and don’t know how to use money to give back to their neighbors who don’t have much. She went on to say that she wants to see people make it big and help their neighbor, to give back to the people they came from.
She spoke of how it is harder for black people, and she didn’t know why because we couldn’t choose our skin color and all of us deserved a chance. I listened to her every word when she spoke of increased struggles because of the color of her skin.
She repeated that God is directing my steps and that I should never let an opportunity go by. I asked her name and she said, “Glory.” I sat there, overwhelmed by the magic of this conversation. I thanked her for saying what she said because I was a jumble of nerves right then.
She said not to thank her but when my next big thing comes that delivers me that God gets all the glory. She continued to speak of God’s hand on my life and to be ready for big things.
I told her I haven’t always had much but my word, and I gave her my word that if Oprah called and wanted me on her show that I was going to tell them that they had to let me bring her, too. She laughed and said that she would be right there in the audience smiling at me.
The conversation ended with her promising to be in touch and to watch my show. I felt like we had known each other for a long time, and I knew that The Universe intentionally placed Miss Glory in my path. I can’t stop thinking about her. Or how I’m going to find her when Oprah calls.
Onward,
Amy Jo
