I’m certain many of you reading have been put in crowd-pleasing situations where it is appropriate to poke fun at yourself.
One of my favorite past one-liners was telling others that I pursued a degree in Mass Communication solely because communication (or mainly talking) was the only talent I possessed.
In hindsight, it is possible that most people laughed not from hysteria but rather because of the deep irony and truth presented in the joke itself.
Unlike many who face routine nervousness when having to lead a meeting or conduct a presentation, my continual strength has been the ability to talk. For those who know me personally, “ability to talk” is an understatement. I’m self-aware of the fact that I could have a conversation with an inanimate object if the time and moxie was present.
I’ve always enjoyed sharing stories and swapping thoughts with others (hence, this blog). Rare are the times when my conversation is at a loss of words.
Because of this potential, I found myself at an early age not having to put much effort into public speaking. Demonstrations or lessons that took classmates weeks to prepare for were usually adlibbed by myself. I considered this continual predicament to be “#blessed” and never gave it another thought.
Unfortunately, what I considered luck or talent at the time eventually morphed into a full blown bad habit. I knew I was good – and I knew I could get away with it.
While I pursued my Mass Communication degree with the intentions of working in journalism, my future took a different direction as my husband and I now work in ministry. While journalists and pastors seem eons apart in nature, they share one common denominator – deadlines.
Just as the time clock for a story to be posted eventually comes to an end, the perpetual Sunday and Wednesday always comes around. Whether you work for days or pull an all-nighter, your time is boiled down to the deadline. It was the toxic food that fed the beast, transforming a bad habit into a lifestyle.
Still, no one knew.