Arriving at Zac's last night I found the room already crowded; by the time study was about to start there were 33 of us (including Baby) and we had to bring extra chairs in from the hall. I say we but, of course, I'm using it in the royal sense: the men did the carrying.
I muttered to Steve,' They're all out tonight,' meaning all the more eccentric regulars/occasionals were in attendance: with me leading the study this had the makings of a disaster waiting to happen.
Steve managed eventually to get everyone's attention and he did the opening prayer while I, who was in a cold sweat by this time, sent up my own fervent/fevered plea for help.
And the evening went ... really well.
We were looking at Jesus, the miracle worker, reading the story of the first recorded miracle, turning water to wine. Lots of people joined in the animated discussion, there was disagreement but not discord, and a number of interesting and thought-provoking points were raised. And I only had to yell twice. (Although me yelling is about as effective as a banana trying to take control so I was grateful for the intervention of Kay and, more surprisingly, Golly, who also had some really good points to make.)
The thirty or so pancakes I made for Shrove Tuesday went down well too with a little sugar and lemon.
Quite often after I've led the study I'll be unable to sleep as I toss and turn fretting about all the things I should/shouldn't have said; last night I couldn't sleep but not because of what I did. But rather because God took charge. How cool is that?