A college professor once told me public speaking was not my forte and I took it to heart, attempting to avoid speaking in public whenever I can. Funny enough then that, upon Jamie asking if anyone would be willing to share a brave story at the last MOPS of the year, a talent-sharing meeting, I decide to respond to her facebook message. With writing being one of my talents, I thought perhaps I could compose a little something and read it but by the end of the long and nap-less day, I hadn’t written anything and I was exhausted. I resigned myself to giving up and crawled to bed. Only then did the thoughts and feelings suddenly clash together and flood my head to the point I could not sleep.
In the dark, with a snoozing baby in his bassinet next to me, I pulled out my tablet to write them down:
My story of bravery began months ago, at the beginning of the new MOPS year when I almost didn’t return to MOPS. I felt as though I didn’t belong; too different from other moms. I’m nerdy, shy, and socially awkward, just to name a few things. I let the adversary in and tell me all about my self-worth, listening to that negative voice inside my head all the way up until the day before MOPS was to begin again. But even introverts crave some social interaction and I realized if I didn’t return, I had nothing to replace the empty space MOPS had fulfilled in past years.
What would be the fun in things if we were all so alike? Our different personalities, quirks, and talents make up who we are and, like a painting, our different colors blend and bloom about upon a canvas together to make a beautiful scene. Who wants a canvas of contemporary postmodern art, with just one color slathered on it? (Maybe the Metropolitan Art museum for half a million but that is not the point.)
And so I decided, shoving out the negativity of Satan and replacing it with a trust in the Lord, to come. I felt accepted and loved more than I had ever fully realized. I started the year trembling and afraid, with emotional wounds I feared might never heal, and ended soaring high on the wings of being bravely me.
Sitting down in my seat after speaking to the large group of ladies, I could sense I could not have completely done such a feat all on my own. The words that came to me, both written late at night and what I spoke, were inspired by the help of a more divine power than just little ol’ quiet me.