I really felt
afraid.
But why? It was
not just about being late for school. It was a test I was going to be late for.
So what? What is a test to me? A couple of marks? A grade? A number? A
percentage? Why did it matter?
The bus was
moving inch by inch. It has been going at that rate for more than an hour on
the same stretch of road.
I was scared and
worried, but that didn’t change a thing. My butt was sore from sitting at my
seat so long.
What would
happen if I was late for the starting time? Would they wait for me? Was anyone
else in my class late? Would they let me start the paper late and have less
time to finish? Or would they let me have the full 50 min from when I start? Or
would they shut me up in a room while my friends did their paper, and then give
me a zero because I was too late?
So many questions,
no answers found.
I started to
pray. I prayed so hard. “Lord, let me get there in time.”
What if He had
His reasons? “Lord, help me not to worry, and truly put this journey into your
hands.”
There was no
alternative route, unless I could fly or teleport. At that time, all I could do
was wait. So I did.
Two long hours
after I left my house, the bus arrived at school.
I ran.
I was in that state
of heart palpitations that I think if I had to open my mouth to speak, my voice
would waver. Thank God no one required me to speak. A teacher told me to go to
conference room A where all latecomers would take their respective tests. I
nodded, and headed off.
With the
nerve-wrecking experience, I had no idea how I was going to get my mind to calm
down to prepare for the test. But once seated in the room with a whole load of
other latecomers, I prayed again.
“Lord, give me a peace of mind to think coherently
and clearly, and to write legibly and with good language.
“Thank you, that
I still made it.”
I don’t care how
well I did for the paper (at least for now). At least I did it.