Revival…

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve stood behind a podium,’ I said as I walked to stand in the front of the room.

Between me and the 27 women I’d met the day prior was a rickety, flimsy metal, single-rodded podium that needed screws tightened…or to be released into the recycling bin for transformation.

I related.

Deep breath as my inner voice said, ‘THIS is what you came here for.’

As instructed by our teacher- a New York Times Best Selling Author- I began my reading with ‘Get a load of this!’

As I read, my words trembled out of my mouth and my arms refused to sit my iPad down on that relatable podium for fear that the combination of the two of us would lead to a fumble in which I knew I would not be able to recover.

I’d chosen a happy story of mine…I needed happy. So many of my broken, but fixed, pieces had already been shared.

Yet, even happy was uncomfortable.

I spent my entire career talking, presenting, sharing my words. Not only had I served as a broadcast journalist behind a microphone with my voice blasting to countless audience members, I’d also stood behind innumerable podiums…sometimes with audiences nearing a thousand people, nearly always in a different city…oftentimes in a different state…a few times, a different country.

What happened to me?

Somewhere along the way, I’d fallen into a world of anxiousness. Perhaps it began when I locked myself in my house during the 2020 Pandemic or possibly it was created by encapsulating myself into my safest space- my family- by walking away from said career and a decade of solo travel years prior.

Either way, there I stood. There I shook. There I read.

‘THIS is what you came here for,’ my inner voice repeated.

I was uncomfortable in a place that once felt like home to me…my insides lacked steadiness.

I silently thanked my black frame reading glasses for allowing me to read the text that laid in my arms while blurring the faces of the women who were looking at and listening to me.

Why was I fearful? What do I do with this anxiousness that has grown inside of me?

There I spoke to a captive audience surrounded by all of rural New England’s September wonder in a room full of women, who like me, wanted to share their stories through the written word.

Did they notice? Probably.

Does it matter? No.

Did I bring back a part of my life that has been gone? Yes.

A revival.

That’s what it was.

A revival…