The Talk Part 2

   After I finished writing and sending the weekend column I turned once again to my pile of note cards. I practiced the talk again standing at the rail. Colby jumped up on the rail and walked over my notes. I still stumbled more than I would have liked.
  The  talk timed out right around the seven minute mark, but I decided to remove one card. I had been asked for my perspective and the section I was leaving out was about something pretty obvious. Now I was starting to get really nervous.
  I was wondering when this was going to happen. Things were going just too well, I didn't have to struggle much with what I was going to say. When things are too easy I get suspicious and wonder when things are going to fall apart. I was annoyed at my nerves, but also comforted by them. (Weird, yes, but that is the way it is.)
  C came home from work and we went out for lunch and to run errands. I told him what I had planned to say. As we talked I realised that there were a few things I wanted to change. I filed them away mentally for later. C told me to give the subject a rest for awhile. It was good advice, but a little hard to follow. The back of my mind was still working on it as we went about our errands.
  Finally we returned home. We put the groceries away. I got out my cards and started to revise them. My stack went from 16 cards to 12 and back up to 14. I numbered each of the cards so I wouldn't get them out of order. The talk still timed out at seven minutes. I practiced it at the rail one more time and went to bed.
   The next morning I got up and practiced it again. My big fear was that I would get up and give the talk I'd written before all of the Saturday night revisions. The preparation was over and I took some time to relax and play with the cats.
   C got up a little later than he intended and we had to rush to church. I was supposed to be there five minutes early and would have to sit in the front instead of my usual seat. We made it on time and I walked up to the front of the chapel and took a seat. One of the speakers was already there and we chatted for a bit. Then the service began.
  It's an interesting view from the front of the chapel.  I saw things I'd never seen before from my usual seat. I never knew that when the young men that pass the Sacrament have finished, they wait for the two who have blessed the sacrament to stand. Then they march to the front, deposit their trays and sit down. I wonder if they have to practice that. Is there a training session or do they just know what to do from having seen it so many times?
   The first speaker went up to talk. She was nervous and was rocking a little bit on her feet. Since she was wearing high heels this was quite a accomplishment. No one could see it since her feet were hidden. She did a good job and seemed grateful that it was over.
  It was my turn. I sat toward the front  of my seat and then stood up. I had to do it that way to make sure I wouldn't catch the hem of my long skirt with my heel. I walked up to the lectern and kicked my shoes off. The Bishop lowered the lectern top so I could comfortably put my notes on it. I looked out at the people sitting in the chapel.
  I saw President Thomas Monson do that once. During General Conference he looked at all the people sitting in the Conference Center and in a bright voice said, "Hello!". I successfully squelched the urge to do the same thing. Instead I said, "Well.. the view is certainly different from up here." I hadn't planned to say it, but it came out before I could stop it. The view was different and I felt a great responsibility to do a good job.
  "I want to thank the first speaker for her talk," I continued, "It isn't easy to come up here, even for me who has done it a few times." I looked around again at the faces of people I knew who were looking at me. "But not here." None of this was planned, but I was calm. This was going to work. "My name is Sophie, many of you know me as the lady with the hats." I almost always wear a hat to church. "Normally I would be sitting down there." I pointed to my usual seat beside C. "But today Bishop Campbell has asked me to stand here and talk to you." None of this was what I had intended to say. I had no idea where this was coming from. I launched into my talk adding a few things along the way. One speaker had been unable to come to church so my time limit was looser. It was going well. I was almost at the end when my voice started to crack and my eyes began to tear. Rats! I was hoping this wouldn't happen. I managed to squeeze out my last line and grab a tissue from the box on the lectern. (for just such occasions) I stepped back into my shoes, collected my note cards and returned to my seat.
   The ward got up to sing a hymn. Normally at this time I would be berating myself and going through all the things I could have and should have done better. Not this time. It wasn't perfect, but I was still satisfied. I sat back and enjoyed the rest of the speakers.
  After the service was over, the Bishop came up to me and we had a bit of a chat. He liked my talk. I was relieved, I have immense respect for him and didn't want to let him down. Several other people stopped me to tell me that I did a good job. I thanked them and told them I was glad that they enjoyed it and got something from it.
   The reaction of most people after giving a talk is grateful relief mingled with a hope that it will be a good long time before they are called on again. In my case I enjoyed it and hoped that I'd be called on again. (Maybe I shouldn't have said that. They always say, "be care of what you wish for.")