Recently I was asked to speak at a soil and water conservation annual meeting in Ohio. Knowing I would be in great company at a gathering with so many talented farmers and ag industry types, I entered the evening with enthusiasm.

Following a delicious dinner, our attention was called by the evening’s emcee, a local retired radio personality with a courageous sense of humor. As he began introducing the dignitaries in the room, he had a story about nearly all of them – a story that ended in a joke.

His humor was no respecter of persons; he not only needled the people he knew, he jabbed the people he’d never met, including me.

It got personal when he talked about scraping the bottom of the barrel for the evening entertainment and assaulted my green-and-white heritage at Michigan State University.

Surprised and amused by his comments, I decided I needed to roll with it and resolved to show no mercy to this bold Master of Ceremonies.

When I approached the podium, I took the mic and began wielding the power it afforded me. It was my turn to take a few jabs at my new friend and he took them with grace and humor.

I think it was my comparison of him to Don Imus that put the last nail in the coffin, and I decided to let up on the poor guy, realizing he would have the last turn at the podium.

I began my presentation and it was going great, when in the middle of a meaningful story something strange happened.  A woman in the center of the room garnered the attention of some people sitting next to her. At first I didn’t give it much thought, until one by one the whole crowd turned their heads and started looking at this woman.

Not knowing exactly what she was doing to take the attention of the whole room, I began to look, too, wondering what had captured everyone’s curiosity.

Without a sound, a man got up and went to her side … and then another one went. By the way they were moving I knew there was trouble. The comedic emcee turned into the county dispatcher and had an ambulance in route in no time.

Failing to keep the attention of the crowd I stopped in the middle of my story and joined in the staredown as if we were all in a trance and this woman held the magic wand.

A few minutes later the farmers (a.k.a. volunteer firefighters) picked her up in her chair and took her to the back of the room, where the ambulance crew could have better access. As she left the center of the room, the first thought that came to mind was, We better pray for this lady.

Not having any regard to religious convictions of anyone in the room, I turned the soil and water conservation district annual meeting into a prayer meeting, and asked for everyone to bow their heads while I prayed for her right then and there.
When I raised my head and looked at the crowd, I thought, Now how am I going to get this train wreck back on track? I looked back at the emcee, gave him another joking jab and just rolled with it.
As I reflect on that evening, I have to wonder if that was some sort of test of my faith. Would I do what I felt compelled to do? What needed to be done? What was essential for that lady at that moment? Or, would I shrink back, more concerned with the others’ reaction to my convictions than to the well being of this woman?
We are all faced with this from time to time. We are tested to see if the inside matches the outside. I sure hope I passed the test.

Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.