Lamps On, Hands Still Shaking

I turned the key, flipped on the lamps, and set out name tags with a Sharpie that was determined to die on me. Hotdogs in the fridge, chairs in a circle, a quiet prayer over the room. Week one showed up—kids actually came. They laughed, they talked, they didn’t bolt for the door. I drove home relieved and a little stunned.

Then the questions started talking in the dark.

Will they come back? Will they relate to me? Am I going to run out of ideas by Thursday? What if this fizzles? What if I’m the wrong person?

By the time this goes live, we’ll be about three weeks in. New enough to feel wobbly. Good enough to hope. Honest enough to admit: my stomach still flips every time I unlock that side door.

I grew up on good, better, best—never let it rest, so my reflex is to overwork the worry. Make more plans. Add more games. Fix the unknowns. But I can hear my mom’s counter-voice: God shows up in the quiet places. So I’m learning to let the anxiety jog beside me without letting it steer.

Here’s what I know so far—small, true things I can stand on:

• Presence beats polish. Teens don’t need a perfect program; they need adults who keep showing up and say their names out loud.

• Faithfulness is the win. If we’re there when we said we would be, with open eyes and soft answers—that counts.

• God builds what we can’t. “Unless the Lord builds the house…” (Psalm 127:1). I can set chairs in a circle. I can’t change a heart. And that’s a mercy.

Grandma’s figure-it-out grit still helps: I text reminders, ask for rides, make a simple plan and a backup. My mother’s quiet faith steadies me: I pray over the empty room, breathe, and let silence do some of the work.

If you’re starting something new—a small group, a classroom, a project that makes your hands shake—here’s the permission slip I’m giving myself:

Show up. Tell the truth. Keep it kind. Let grace do the heavy lifting.

Everything else can grow week by week.

Tonight I’ll unlock the door again. Lamps on. Hotdogs warming. Names ready. My prayer is the same simple line:

Lord, steady my pace and make me kind.

If three students come, we’ll love three well. If thirty come, we’ll love thirty. Either way, we’re not measuring worth by headcount—we’re measuring by faithfulness.

And that, three weeks in, is enough.

— Brianne