It was dark and sleeting when we arrived at the house bible study was being held at. The house was way out in the country, surrounded by hills and ponderosa trees. I could hear cattle bellowing in the distance under the sound of rain drizzling on the trees. Unfortunately, it was too dark to see anything besides what a few dim porch lights revealed. 

Inside the house, there was an overwhelming number of people, all of whom were older adults. I walked inside behind my grandparents, hoping they'd distract most of the adults so I didn't embarrass myself with my terrible small-talk skills. But, because I was several inches taller than my grandparents and a new face in the crowd, everyone in that house was drawn to me like moths to a flame. By some miracle, I managed to introduce myself and hold a few conversations with people without coming off as an awkward, stuttering mess. I still don't know how I managed to pull that off, considering I still have a hard time making my own doctors' appointments over the phone without getting nervous and tripping over my words.

While I avoided embarrassing myself while I had conversations with people, I forgot how tall I was. I was bent over a crock pot of soup on the kitchen table, filling a small bowl of it for myself, and ended up standing up to my full height too soon. I smashed my head on the chandelier in front of everyone. I was fine. The chandelier was fine. But my dignity was in the toilet. Later on, I found myself wondering, "How could God keep me from embarrassing myself with my bad social skills, only to let me do something else equally embarrassing in front of 15 or 20 adults I've never met before?" 

But, I soon realized that stupid mistakes like that are almost never remembered by anyone else except for the person who did it. Not 5 minutes later, bible study began as if I didn't almost destroy someone's antique chandelier. It started off with a prayer, then an older woman headed upstairs to the balcony where there was a piano, and played along while everyone else sang hymns. I didn't sing any hymns. Not only did (and does) my singing voice sound worse than nails on a chalkboard, but I wanted to remain as quiet and invisible as possible, because I was still mortified by the chandelier incident. Also, I wanted to get a feel for the kinds of Christians I was dealing with that time. I hoped that they'd be a fairly diverse group, so maybe I'd get some diverse answers to my questions. But as far as I knew, everyone in that room shared the same Christian beliefs as my grandparents. However, I'd only know for sure if I threw out one of my many "unanswerable" questions. 

I never gained the courage to ask any of my questions. Even when the discussion dulled and got quiet for a moment, I never made a sound. I tried, but it was like as soon as I had a chance and opened my mouth, I forgot the English language. My mind would go blank, and I'd feel a rush of adrenaline as flight-or-fight kicked in. Social anxiety took over me and silenced me.

I'd managed to maintain small-talk with people before bible study even began, but as soon as it seemed like all eyes were on me, my ability to speak vanished. I was pretty upset at myself for being so afraid of the whole group that I couldn't even look at them, but that wasn't anything new. I'd always struggled to interact with people, especially those I didn't know. I was the kid that ran to hide behind my parents whenever I was around strangers. I was the student in school that avoided talking with my peers as much as possible. I was (and still am) that overly-vigilant woman who sprints to my car if there's nobody around to escort me to it, even in broad daylight. I also still struggle to start conversations or hold eye contact for longer than a few seconds, if at all.

I could only hope that if I continued to attend that bible study with my grandparents, then I'd eventually be comfortable enough to ask one of my many theological questions that I thought I just needed an answer to. Unfortunately, I never gained that courage. I remained silent during every bible study I attended. Even if I was dying to ask a question, my thoughts would instantly scatter as soon as there was an opportunity for me to speak. I hated that about myself. I still do. Maybe if I did have the ability to throw out a question or more, my faith in God wouldn't have been nearly as unstable as it was.