When I came back to work after Christmas there was an e-mail in our inbox, from a lady who has been supporting our charity for a couple of years. Unbeknown to me, she had heard me sharing my testimony about how I came to work at the pregnancy crisis centre a couple of years ago at a New Year houseparty in Ardeonaig.

She asked if I’d be willing to come to an all-night youth event in Glenrothes (about 40 minute drive from Edinburgh) to share a little of my story and how God has answered prayer in my life through it.

I long ago accepted that my story is really not my story – it is God’s story, and it became God’s story the moment I asked him ‘Lord take all the crappy stuff that’s happened into my life and use it for good, use it to help others‘

(or something along those lines…I can’t remember the exact words I used at the time…it was 8 years ago!)

Friday was mental. I ended up singing at a wedding (seriously beginning to think I should start charging…but then so should my friend Kate as I borrowed another one of her dresses!) which ended up being longer than expected, from there to the centre, to baking cakes to driving across town to pick up DVDs for the training course to eating to driving to Glenrothes.

I got lost in Glenrothes…seriously thinking I need to invest in one of those Sat-Nav things as trying to read directions while driving on dark country roads or motorways is just a tad dangerous.

I screamed at God in  a car park. I was so exhausted, plus upset & frustrated from earlier in the day my little sister saying ‘please come, I need my big sister‘ and me not being able to. I hate, hate, hate not having an income that accommodates trips to see friends and family. It sucks. So I was feeling a little mad at God, even though I have no right to be mad at God. But I was mad at him anyway.

I eventually got there. The teenagers were so welcoming so excited and so chatty!

At 11 p.m. I was introduced and I shared some of my story. They were so quiet as I told it. They laughed at the ‘You’re pregnant’ prophecy and my reaction to it. I wasn’t sure if it was relevant or too much for them.

Then after I had spoken, two girls came up to me – they were only 13/14, and said thank you and that I was brave (ha! if only they knew)

Another girl came up to me wanting to know what it was like being pregnant when I was still in high school – was it tough?

Someone else wanted to know if I’d had children since.

Another girl asked me – what do you think happened to your baby?

And then I was floored by the next question…

Do you know what you would have named your baby?

I have never. ever. been asked that question. By anyone.

But all of you know that I was able to answer. Yes. I do.

Sophie.

They told me stories that would break your heart. Siblings who became parents at 16 and struggled, peers who sleep around and have already had several abortions, peers who lost their virginity by the time they were 12.

They wanted to know how they could reach out to their peers they saw struggling, that they in their words said ‘it’s like they have no self-worth‘.

We talked of all sorts of things – they wanted to know if I’d want to have children in the future, and if I had a girl, would I still name her Sophie? They talked about relationships, and wanting to wait for the right person.

I was astonished (in a good way) at their maturity. Seriously, they talked about this issue with a maturity that most adults I know don’t have.

And of course the final question asked of me…

You’re nails are so long…are they real?

Don’t know why but somehow every time I have a discussion with a group of teenage girls about pregnancy, my nails end up becoming a conversation topic but they do. It makes me giggle.

I’ve always tried to avoid public speaking. I’m much more comfortable singing behind a microphone than I am speaking behind one, and have always been nervous about sharing my story in front of people. It’s so totally different from blogging.

But last night made me realise that sharing my story does somehow help or make a difference in some way. I don’t think I fully appreciated that before.

And I’m grateful to the people that gave me an opportunity to do that, and for a God that gave me the courage to do it, and through His grace, used my rambling for His own glory.

May it all go to Him.