Sweaty Palms

I knew I was nervous. The clammy sweat accumulating on each palm more than proved it to me. My heart felt like it was bouncing around uncontrollably inside my chest, and the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach weren’t helping.

Listen to the chapel speaker, Lynnette. Maybe she’ll distract you, I told myself. Of course, in my state of slight agitation, concentration was next to impossible. From what I remember, she had some good points and some…interesting…points, all of which she gave in an unvaried, flat monotone.

I wished Ariel hadn’t said anything about London. She didn’t mean to worry me, but she and Janelle found out from our friend Shirly last week, and they couldn’t wait to find out whether or not I got in. Unfortunately, I must have checked my mail box before the notifications were sent out, so any of their well-placed, subtle questions were useless on me.

Taking out my pen, I sought distraction in the form of my journal. I often use my journal to record my prayers; it’s my way of talking with God. Our conversation went something like this:

I’m so nervous, God. What if I didn’t get in? Do you know how heart-broken I’ll be?
Trust me.
I’m TRYING. But You know how much I’ve wanted this. Ever since sophomore year.
I’m in control.
I KNOW You’re in control. That’s what worries me sometimes.
I’m not trying to withhold good things from you. But I want you to trust that I know best.
It’s easy to say that you’re in control if it turns out that I got accepted. But I don’t know how I’ll react if I don’t get in. I mean, I’d like to think that I’d be able to say that it’s Your will and submit to that, but I’m betting I’d probably cry instead.
It’s ok to be disappointed.
I’ve been trying to prepare myself for the worst so that I won’t be totally disappointed. But I really want to study in London; there’s no getting around it.
Remember I love you. Even when you feel disappointed.

Our conversation was suddenly interrupted when the chapel speaker unexpectedly went into her closing prayer, rousing me from my own thoughts. I bent my head and listened to her, only half paying attention, because I could feel the anxiety building up inside me.

Ariel and Janelle offered to come with me to the mailboxes. I have a top box, so I have to stand on my tip toes to see the numbers of my combination lock. After about 30 seconds of turning the lock, I finally opened my box, jumped up to see if there was anything inside, and stretched my arm as far as I could to grab the letter.

I almost wanted to put off opening it, as though the contents would change in my favor if I waited long enough. But I knew that was impossible. I ripped the envelope slowly, pulled out the letter, and opened the top fold.

My eyes fell on the first word printed in bold type, “Congratulations!” With a huge sigh of relief, I opened the rest of the letter and let my eyes run down it. I didn’t really bother to finish reading—I’d do it later—I was just too happy to think straight. The only thing that came to mind was, “Thank you, Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Ariel and Janelle were excited too, celebrating with me. I gave them a big hug and wished them a good day. Then I rushed off to my Fitness Walking and Jogging class with a ridiculous grin plastered across my face.