Age 9, I applied to be student government secretary.
Feeling tiny, small and out of place I approached my teacher with my application.
"Are you ready to give a speech?" Ms. Witcher, my 4th grade teacher said.
I squeaked to myself slightly and felt my heart begin to race.
A speech? In front of people?!?!?!?!
But who would listen to me anyway?
I
was
that
nice
quiet
(asian?)
girl.
I
shrank
within
myself.
"Nevermind!" I said. And ran away.
I remember the slightly disappointed look on Ms. Witcher's face. The soft wrinkles of
her mid-60 year old face slightly frowning, wondering why I didn't even dare to try.
Why didn't she give me a pep talk? Tell me that I was capable -- That I had a voice worth listening to.
I remember talking myself out of the opportunity to run for student gov't secretary.
"You're not actually that popular."
"Who would vote for you?"
"What would I have to say that's worth them picking me?"
I remember telling my parents about it.
What I don't remember is their response. Did they encourage me?
There's a blank space there...
..
..
..
..
..
..
7th grade year. Concert master of my orchestra.
8th grade year. Ditto.
Ditto till I graduated from high school.
I coached, I taught, I led sectionals.
Nowhere else did I feel so confident behind my violin.
Did I actually have clout?
I'm
still
that
quiet
(Asian?)
girl/teenager.
We'll
see
I
guess.
Age 24. InterVarsity Campus staff minister (member, just to be safe.)
It was the next step that made sense. Grateful for a lineage of mentors.
Janet. Michelle. Genese.
Grateful for allies.
Mark.
Not all places feel safe.
I remember walking into a ministry outreach meeting.
ed
Su nd
rr ou BY MEN.
I'm
still
that
quiet
Filipina (Asian on the harder days)
WOMAN.
Where's
my
place
in
this
conversation?
Boy the testosterone was thick.
Am I really the only person that's going to raise their hand?
Am I really the only person who's going to wait for the other person to finish talking?
Must I assert myself always?
Thank goodness one gentleman noticed my hand up, or heard the little gasp of air I made that one makes when they are wanting to say something. I really can't remember.
The meeting ended. TIME TO GO!
Age 26. Fairview United Methodist Church. March 30, 2014. 11:20am.
The last butterfly left my stomach as I stepped onto the pulpit.
He made my mouth like a sharpened sword,
in the shadow of his hand he hid me;
he made me into a polished arrow
and concealed me in his quiver.
All I remember is my voice sounding slightly distant, echoing through the speakers.
(Is my mic on?)
Notes before me. Ephesians 5:1-8.
(Just open your mouth.)
Remember this moment. This turning point.
YOU CANNOT FAIL.
(Is my voice really that high-pitched?)
(How weird. I'm not that nervous.)
(Am I really talking?)
now. :)
back
turning
no
no
There's
WOMAN.
Filipino American
quiet (only when I'm shy)
that
still
I'm
