Tuesday, November 23, 2021 Omicron Nu

It took me seven years to get a four-year degree in college. I spent three years trying to avoid choosing a major, but at some point they pinned me down. Okay, how about social work? I did that for awhile and then switched to music therapy. That didn’t last either. I took a break for about half a year and then one day, whilst eating my tuna fish sandwich at work, I thought, Hey, I like food! Why don’t I become a dietitian?

Filled with new determination, I went back and discovered that I still had about three years left in order to finish this new, shiny major of mine. I threw myself into it with such gusto, that one day I found out that I’d gotten good enough grades to join an honor society: Omicron Nu. Well, well, well! Normally, I don’t think I’d have given it a single glance, but by this time, the Golden Résumé was on the horizon and this would look pretty good on it. Sign me up!

The initiation ceremony was somewhat lacking in pomp. I think there were a few other students joining at the same time and we had to take some sort of oath – it’s all pretty hazy now. But they also passed out a form for us to fill out, including which officer positions we’d be interested in filling if the need arose. I was in an expansive mood and figured any one of them would add some sparkle to my résumé, so I checked off all of them: president, vice-president, treasurer and secretary. What they failed to tell me was that this wasn’t just informational. ‘Twas the spring of the year and they were looking for officers for the next year. I received a call from the outgoing president – I was the only one who had checked the box for president, so by default, I was it. What? Weren’t there elections? What about campaigning? Nope.

I probably could have backed out, but once again, the allure of the résumé dangled enticingly in my head, so I decided to go for it. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into and I had absolutely no experience. I knew very little about Omicron Nu and up until then had liked it that way. I avoided thinking about it over the summer.

Early the next fall, the various groups on campus decided to host a dance and all the leaders of these groups were summoned to a meeting to discuss the details. I was really nervous about this and couldn’t decide if I should just keep my mouth shut or try to show some leadership. Sadly, I chose the latter. While many ideas were being thrown around in discussion, I spoke up and said that we’d have to be careful about letting minors in (since there was talk of having beer available). The discussion came to a grinding halt and everyone stopped and stared at me. Someone finally said, “Did you mean to say ‘minors’?” It turns out that in my nervousness I had blurted out the word “minorities” instead. That was my last contribution to the discussion.

Halfway through the year I found out that our society was supposed to bring a speaker onto campus in the spring. We chose the topic of learning how to handle stress and I found a speaker. From that point on, my life was one continual raging ball of stress and anxiety about this wretched event. I didn’t know what I was doing and no one else did either. I ended up making all the posters for it, and we plastered them all over campus. I really wanted people to come to this so we could say it was a success. But I had to introduce the speaker so I didn’t want too many people. I lost much sleep in the weeks leading up to the event.

When the fateful day came, I was a nervous wreck. I sat out in the cafeteria near to the auditorium, awaiting the moment when I’d have to go out and introduce the speaker. While I sat there, a friend of a friend came by and asked what was going on. I told him what I needed to do and how inadequate I felt for the task. He took a paper placemat and wrote these words on it: “Now then go, and I, even I, will be with your mouth and teach you what to say. Exodus 4:12.” I was stunned. I’d never had Scripture quoted to me, and I couldn’t believe that this guy knew the one verse in all of the Bible that I needed to hear. I still have that placemat. And that verse was one of the first ones I memorized when I became a Christian later on. But that’s another story.

The end of this story is that I introduced the speaker and paid absolutely no attention to the content of the speech – I was just relieved to be done with my part of it. In retrospect, I was probably the student in the audience who needed to hear the message most.

This has been Tuesday True Stories with Lynniebeemuseoday.

I’ll probably be too stressed out to delete this in the morning.