Monday, February 25, 2013

Shaking. Trembling. Humbled.


Shaking in my brown suede boots - that was me yesterday morning. 


In January, I wrote a blog post titled, My Water Bottle Life.  After pushing the publish button, I felt compelled to email our pastor and gave him the link just in case he wanted to read something I wrote that was brought on by his current sermon series on Holiness.  


One Sunday, a short time after, he told me that he'd like to quote my writing in an upcoming message.  I probably turned red the moment he mentioned it, then for weeks  I carried the anxious knowledge with me. 

I'm used to talking with women; speaking into their lives, encouraging, laughing - you know, girl stuff.  But the thought that men would be hearing my words also, sent a chill up my spine. 



Our pastor told me last week that the next Sunday would be the day.  And he said that he might use a picture too.  That doubled the shudder factor for me.  Well, I survived the week trying to not think about it.  But still wondered what he was going to say about me, what part of the blog post he was going to read, etc...  Then I decided that none of that mattered.  I was humbled that something I wrote would be used to bring others closer to God - and I prayed that would be the case.  It's a beautiful thing to be used by God. 

Sunday morning came and no one threw up, making it impossible for me to have a reason to skip out on going to hear my words read aloud in two services. I was calm until we made our way to our seats in the back row.  (Which I required for this particular Sunday, so no one could see me.)  Back row, far right corner please! 

My hands were cold and clammy, my breathing irregular.  You would have thought I was going to have to get up and give an impromptu speech or something.  I was a mess inside.  Praying that God would calm my heart.  It wasn't about me anyways. 

The time came, and the post was read in it's entirety as my heart beat harder than I ever remember it beating.  He even said my name and the name of the blog, and I survived.  I even shed some tears as he read my words and I prayed for those people sitting alongside me in that service. 

I stayed in my safe little corner with my back to the world after the service.  Glad it was over, but still nervous to be received.  I never want people to think I have it all together.  So untrue.  I didn't want this small thing to seem like a bigger thing to anybody.  So I talked to my closest friends, avoiding the rest.  Lovely of me, right? 

I did eventually have to venture out and leave the room to gather the kids.  I was generously greeted by hugs, fist bumps, atta girls, and from one hurting soul, tears.  It was a humbling experience - a good one, yet terrifying. 

That's the story of a Sunday morning, red faced, trembling me. 


Photobucket

2 comments:

  1. Wonderful! Thank you for sharing your heart with whomever God places in your path, me included. Thank you for being real, it's part of what makes you so useful. Blessings!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Loved reading it...loved hearing it on Sunday. *clink* say our water bottles! :)

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for commenting, I love hearing from you!

Blog Design by Caked Designs