Sitting in the fading light of Sunday evening, after three full days of traveling and speaking, I'm feeling like I need to share what it's like to speak.
Last week I poured over my old notes, adding quotes, rearranging slides and organizing my ideas. I was weaving something that needed to be strong enough to support me in the weekend's work. I was spinning a spider's thread. I was weaving a tightrope, working late to add layers of strength. So that when I got on that plane for San Jose, unpacked my speaking clothes and walked behind that podium, I would have a rope I could walk out onto.
That's the scary bit. Because the work of weaving the tightrope is one thing, but stepping out onto the rope, balancing your arms and trusting the strength of your arguments is another. Am I making sense? Do they think I'm too young? Can I really be a voice of truth and inspiration in these women's lives? Will my ideas hold me up? Will they hold them up? Who's going to steady me when I stumble?
There was another strand woven into my thread. The Spirit of God went before me, opened up the room and the women's souls to words I had prepared. He wove strength into my tightrope.