This speaking thing, well, I happened upon it rather unexpectedly. In 2008 I was planning a women's retreat and looking for a speaker. When woman after woman fell through, my friend and I decided to think about having three different people from our church each take a session.
At that point, I volunteered for one of the spots. Looking back, this may have been my first mistake. Or nudge from God. Depending on how you look at it.
I had a story to tell. It was a story that I hadn't really shared with the women at my church and I felt like God was leading me to tell them.
A year later I shared my story (which by then included a cocktail that was one part contested adoption and one part infertility, served in a glass that was all God and how He moves in my life. If, you know, one were to compare God--and what He's done--to a cocktail, which any good pastor's wife would tell you not to do.) in California.
Then there were more invitations to speak.
One of them is tomorrow, at a day conference.
It's not that I desire to be a speaker. I don't, really. Tomorrow I will undoubtedly wake up with my stomach in knots. I'll go through the motions of pretending I'm confident because an $80,000 dollar theatre education taught me to at least appear as though I have a calm assurance. I probably won't throw up. Emphasis on the probably, for obvious reasons. Just before it's time for me to start speaking, I will desperately wish that the worship could just go on and on forever and my arm pits will likely begin to leak, profusely. I will worry, with ridiculous persistence, that my zipper is down or that there is something in my teeth or, most likely, both.
But I will pray. It will resemble begging. I will ask the Lord to speak through me, to make this zero percent about me and 100 percent about Him. And hopefully, He will grant my request and I will feel covered in the joy of sharing my Savior and the very good things He has done.
You see, I don't desire to be a speaker. But I do desire to spread the Good News in any way that He will allow. And for that, I am extremely thankful for this opportunity. While the physical effects of speaking may include stomach knots and zipper obsession, my spirit is eager and willing.
But pray for me, please, because you never know when something big and green will be stuck in my teeth.