My stomach was in knots. Butterflies, grumblings, and cramps swirled around while I waited for the church service to begin. It was January, 2015, and it was my very first time teaching a Wednesday night Bible study at my church. I was prepared, but scared. I looked around the room and saw about 75 people. Oh, Lord, help me.
Then SHE walked in.
I did not expect her to come. After all, for years I felt that she didn’t like me. Then after our “conflict,” I was pretty certain she didn’t care for me and she definitively intimated me. Why was SHE here? She was the last person in the world that I envisioned being here.
Nausea joined my stomach problems. Instead of peacefully trusting in God before I stepped up on the stage, I was sitting in my chair with my head between my knees. No joke. Trying to breathe. Trying not to throw up.
But then the time came for me to walk up on the stage, and I had no choice: I did what I had to do. I shakily walked up the steps and stood on that stage and taught the lesson I had prepared. In front of 75 people. Including her.
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