That's Right - It's an Embarrassing Laurie Moment

Typically when someone puts up a question saying, "What's your most embarrassing moment?" I struggle. It's not because I'm so amazingly self-aware that I never do anything to embarrass myself. In fact I'm quite happy to make a bit of a fool of myself. Of course I wasn't always so.

I've always been a people pleaser. I'm more apt to say what someone wants to hear rather than what I'm really thinking. This is one of those moments.

I was about 16 or 17. My Sunday School teacher was named Jon Schmidt. He's a fantastic redhead (redundant? tee hee), who has made quite a name for himself with all his piano doings. I find him quite remarkable. Of course it has so much more to do with the man (and his amazing wife) who helped mold my spiritual outlook on life during those awkward years.

One particular evening his wife was out of town. My best friend and I took him some spaghetti dinner, because, naturally, there was no way he could take care of himself and it became our self-inflicted duty to provide him with sustenance. After providing him with dinner I realized we forgot dessert. I know. And that's not even the embarrassing part!

Upon arriving to his downstairs apartment I found a note saying he and a friend had gone over to our church building to practice the piano. I found him and this totally cute guy named Paul Cardall playing a bit of music. Jon invited me to stay for a moment and listen. I've always been fantastically moved by music in so many forms and wholeheartedly agreed to stay (it didn't hurt that I got to sit and stare at the cute guy a while, too). Paul played a self-written variation on a song originally written by a man whose name eludes me, a song I was very familiar with and dearly loved.

After Paul was finished Jon asked me which version I liked better. I could see it in both their eyes: they wanted me to say Paul's version. I was flustered. I was scared of saying something stupid. I blurted out, "I like your version better." Then I felt like a fool. Why?

Well, first was the sly look the two men had, a look that screamed, "I think she's crushin' on you, man!" I began to blush furiously at the thought (and blushing really clashes with my hair!). My second thought was how I so wished I'd told them exactly how I really felt.

I'd wanted to say I loved the original, as it had captured my heart long ago. I also really like Paul's version as it brought something new to the picture and evoked so many emotions in something I already enjoyed. That's what I wanted to say.

Instead I came out sounding like a dumbstruck, moony teenager who couldn't get past a cute face and nimble fingers. Grrr. The day a time machine is officially on the market I'm heading back to that day and saying exactly what I thought!