The Wall Hanging
Rummaging through my junk drawer, I discovered a small wall hanging received five years earlier. My first thought, "Look at those dark purple roses, how pretty." I then remembered why I had placed it in that drawer instead of hanging it on a wall. First of all, the purple roses clash with every room in my house, but the main reason, it reminds me of an embarrassing moment. This embarrassing memory turns my face a dark shade of red.
Before my husband's job moved us to Michigan, I held an elected position for five years in our denomination's district woman's ministry in Ohio. Two months after moving to Michigan, the Ohio Womnen's Director asked me to return for the yearly convention.
The morning of the convention I chose a stylish dress with high heels to match. I also spent extra time on my make-up and hair hoping to boost my confidence with what I wore and how I looked.
My part of the convention, reporting on the 2000-2001 outreach activities appeared toward the top of the printed agenda. Anticipating reading my report caused my heart to pound, my hands to perspire, and my confidence to wane.
They finally called my name and I walked slowly up the stairs to the platform. I read my report and asked for questions. The assembly then accepted my report and I walked back toward the steps. I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
I walked slowly down the steps, mindful of carrying myself gracefully and confidently. But when my right foot hit the third step, my heel caught and I tumbled down the last step landing on the floor below. I fell in the most ungraceful manner possible. "Oh no!" resounded from the four hundred women. This added to my humiliation. I picked myself up, dusted off my hands and my dress, and walked to my front row seat.
"Are you alright, Cindy?" the director asked concernedly.
"I'm fine, just embarrassed," I answered fighting back the tears begging to flow.
An hour later, the director expressed her thankfulness for the five years I served on the committee. She said, "Cindy, if you'll come to the platform, I have a gift for you."
I gratefully stood and walked toward the platform. Then I thought about the earlier incident and stopped. I looked at the director and asked sheepishly, "Would you mind if I accept my gift down here? I'm a bit leery of those steps." The whole auditorium roared.
The wall hanging was the gift I received that day. Unfortunately, this was only one of many embarrassing moments in my life. In fact, I embarass myself quite often. What about you?
Before my husband's job moved us to Michigan, I held an elected position for five years in our denomination's district woman's ministry in Ohio. Two months after moving to Michigan, the Ohio Womnen's Director asked me to return for the yearly convention.
The morning of the convention I chose a stylish dress with high heels to match. I also spent extra time on my make-up and hair hoping to boost my confidence with what I wore and how I looked.
My part of the convention, reporting on the 2000-2001 outreach activities appeared toward the top of the printed agenda. Anticipating reading my report caused my heart to pound, my hands to perspire, and my confidence to wane.
They finally called my name and I walked slowly up the stairs to the platform. I read my report and asked for questions. The assembly then accepted my report and I walked back toward the steps. I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
I walked slowly down the steps, mindful of carrying myself gracefully and confidently. But when my right foot hit the third step, my heel caught and I tumbled down the last step landing on the floor below. I fell in the most ungraceful manner possible. "Oh no!" resounded from the four hundred women. This added to my humiliation. I picked myself up, dusted off my hands and my dress, and walked to my front row seat.
"Are you alright, Cindy?" the director asked concernedly.
"I'm fine, just embarrassed," I answered fighting back the tears begging to flow.
An hour later, the director expressed her thankfulness for the five years I served on the committee. She said, "Cindy, if you'll come to the platform, I have a gift for you."
I gratefully stood and walked toward the platform. Then I thought about the earlier incident and stopped. I looked at the director and asked sheepishly, "Would you mind if I accept my gift down here? I'm a bit leery of those steps." The whole auditorium roared.
The wall hanging was the gift I received that day. Unfortunately, this was only one of many embarrassing moments in my life. In fact, I embarass myself quite often. What about you?
posted by Cindy Kingsbury @ 1:08 PM
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