Sharing My Testimony
As people we all have stories and experiences the define us as a person. But are there parts of your life that you have kept buried deep in your heart that you are dying to let go of? That's what I had felt like for the longest time. There has been a day that has constantly been in the back of my mind for almost two years, but I couldn't bring myself to even really tell people about it without breaking down or feeling immense sorrow. It was the day my mom passed away.
One of the first times we were having a girl's Bible study at Panera, Maria asked me if I would be interested in sharing my testimony in front of the youth group one Sunday, and at first I was hesitant. I already knew I wasn't a strong public speaker, and to talk about something so emotionally involved in my life would not be easy, but my heart was telling me it was time to do something with the grief and memories I had overcome and encountered over the past couple years.
Fast forward to April 10th, the day I was set to share my story in front of everyone that Sunday night. My stomach was churning and I had felt overwhelmed with anxiety, especially since before youth I was practicing saying it aloud and Maria kept telling me to slow down and breathe. Which of course I knew I needed to do, but there was not much else I could do to change however I reacted when I got in front of everyone.
I don't really know why I feel compelled to write a whole blog about this very brief moment I had, but alas I will continue to explain it to the best of my abilities. Once I got up there, I was trembling, yet my voice seemed firmer and more confident than it had just a couple of hours ago. As I read the words off my paper, every so often I would glance around the room to see who was listening. To my astonishment, no one was talking. No one was looking at their phones. They really cared about what I had to say. The room was filled with raw emotion and throughout the night I could tell that people were deeply connected to the message I was sharing and/or the video we watched at the conclusion of the night. I remember clearly one of the youth leaders, Reynolds, patted me on the head with some papers and gestured at all the other youth and basically said something along the lines of, "You can definitely tell the atmosphere is different in here tonight, because of you." But of course it wasn't me, it was God.
For weeks I had been praying that the words that would come out of my mouth would mean something to someone in that room. As of now I don't know if any of them recall anything I said, but in that moment I felt something in the youth wing, a presence that had long been gone, and I wish it would never leave. It was a feeling of connection between not only our group, but with the Lord himself.
It was long ago, and I don't remember who told me this story, but there was a girl at our church named Savannah Swandal. Someone who knew her very well shared the story that while she was in the hospital, she told this close friend of hers that she felt as if God was holding her hand as she was lying in the hospital bed. And I felt like God was embracing me, and that with his embrace I also felt my mother's embrace.
Anywho, since then it has felt as if a weight has been lift off my shoulders. Sharing my testimony was a way to let other people know and learn from my life, but also in a way it helped with my grieving process. It has shown my personal growth in believing in not only myself, but putting my faith and trust into my church community. Each day I'm in that building I get to see people who actually care about me, and I feel at home. At peace.
And to live a life where you feel like you belong is one I would never trade for anything else.
Love always,
Allison
One of the first times we were having a girl's Bible study at Panera, Maria asked me if I would be interested in sharing my testimony in front of the youth group one Sunday, and at first I was hesitant. I already knew I wasn't a strong public speaker, and to talk about something so emotionally involved in my life would not be easy, but my heart was telling me it was time to do something with the grief and memories I had overcome and encountered over the past couple years.
Fast forward to April 10th, the day I was set to share my story in front of everyone that Sunday night. My stomach was churning and I had felt overwhelmed with anxiety, especially since before youth I was practicing saying it aloud and Maria kept telling me to slow down and breathe. Which of course I knew I needed to do, but there was not much else I could do to change however I reacted when I got in front of everyone.
I don't really know why I feel compelled to write a whole blog about this very brief moment I had, but alas I will continue to explain it to the best of my abilities. Once I got up there, I was trembling, yet my voice seemed firmer and more confident than it had just a couple of hours ago. As I read the words off my paper, every so often I would glance around the room to see who was listening. To my astonishment, no one was talking. No one was looking at their phones. They really cared about what I had to say. The room was filled with raw emotion and throughout the night I could tell that people were deeply connected to the message I was sharing and/or the video we watched at the conclusion of the night. I remember clearly one of the youth leaders, Reynolds, patted me on the head with some papers and gestured at all the other youth and basically said something along the lines of, "You can definitely tell the atmosphere is different in here tonight, because of you." But of course it wasn't me, it was God.
For weeks I had been praying that the words that would come out of my mouth would mean something to someone in that room. As of now I don't know if any of them recall anything I said, but in that moment I felt something in the youth wing, a presence that had long been gone, and I wish it would never leave. It was a feeling of connection between not only our group, but with the Lord himself.
It was long ago, and I don't remember who told me this story, but there was a girl at our church named Savannah Swandal. Someone who knew her very well shared the story that while she was in the hospital, she told this close friend of hers that she felt as if God was holding her hand as she was lying in the hospital bed. And I felt like God was embracing me, and that with his embrace I also felt my mother's embrace.
Anywho, since then it has felt as if a weight has been lift off my shoulders. Sharing my testimony was a way to let other people know and learn from my life, but also in a way it helped with my grieving process. It has shown my personal growth in believing in not only myself, but putting my faith and trust into my church community. Each day I'm in that building I get to see people who actually care about me, and I feel at home. At peace.
And to live a life where you feel like you belong is one I would never trade for anything else.
Love always,
Allison
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