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So Now You're the Leader
The struggles and joys of taking charge.
2 of 6
On the third Wednesday morning of September, as we stood around our Formica tables, I was the one holding a piece of paper that said Agenda and looking at the first item: Welcome the group. Listening to the hum of women discussing summer trips and preschool enrollments, I felt cornered. Why did I agree to this? I moaned to myself and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. "Buck up!" I said under my breath. After all, Shelley and Rose had told me not to worry, that I'd do a great job. But when I saw those two take seats at a back table, I felt like the person who'd picked the shortest straw. Yes, last year, with dynamic Sharon to watch, I had wanted to be in her place. Part of me had thought that I could do it, could motivate women to make a habit of Bible reading, that I could be the leader. But as I moved toward the podium, all the welcoming phrases I had thought of seemed muddled and out of reach. How did Sharon do it? I thought. Her voice never quivered. The room quieted down. Eyes and still faces began to look up, and I saw what was bothering me most. This was not just any group. These were my friends, and they had never seen me act as leader before. What would they think? Would they keep coming? If they quit the Bible study in a week or two, I would feel they were rejecting me. The moment to start had to come soon. And then, like receiving a lifeline, I saw the high-voltage, freckly faced smile of Becky, my neighbor and old friend. Spontaneously I smiled back. For about fifteen seconds she kept up a twinkling eye contact, and that bit of happy interaction calmed me. The words began to flow. Later I thanked both Becky and God for her nonverbal support. So I did welcome the group that day—not with Sharon's flair, but with sincerity. And all year I went back, and back, and back to Founders' Hall, not always because I wanted to, but because God kept shoving me out the door. He didn't seem to care that I kept comparing myself to Sharon, or that I was worried my friends would reject me. In fact, I think he used those things to frighten me into doing a good job. If I'd had my druthers, I wouldn't have followed a star like Sharon, but after some time, I learned from that experience. What If You Don't Have Charisma?One thing I learned is that sincerity can rival charisma—but it takes time. At first I was surprised how well things were going. Attendance didn't fluctuate much, discussions were lively, and it seemed to me that with every passing week I welcomed the group with more humor and less starch. But there were grumblings. These women missed Sharon, as I did. And while they didn't want to be critical, their "missing" leaked out. At times, while getting coffee, I would overhear a snatch of conversation like "I'm not sure I can keep coming all year; it depends." Or Rose would tell me that So-and-so was thinking of attending another group. While those comments felt unsettling, I didn't act on them, since they weren't made to me directly. |             |
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