I Passed All My Exams

Finally the day of reckoning had arrived! Nervously, I opened the envelope which contained my test score. I felt slightly nauseous. I could hardly bear to look at the score. I carried the sheet with me from room-to-room trying to work up my courage. I kept telling myself, "If the score isn't so great, I can always re-take the test . . . ." But what if God was trying to tell me through a low score that I was on the wrong road for my life?? Should I wait for my roommate to return from work? I could have her look at the score and then share it with me in the least hurtful way.

No! I had to do this! I had come this far. I had literally studied my flat little butt off all summer for this test. It couldn't be that bad; could it?

Without looking, I slapped the sheet with the test score on the dining table and quickly covered it with a book. I took a deep breath. I had to look. Slowly, I slid the book off the sheet. The score began to come into my view: "one hundred . . ." Well, that was encouraging. A perfect score was 180. So, I didn't absolutely bomb the test and embarrass myself. Another deep breath. More sliding. "One hundred seventy . . ." My eyes widened and I could feel moisture pooling in the corners of my eyes. "Was it possible? Did I do that good??" A final yank and the book was off the sheet: "One hundred seventy-two: 172." My lower jaw dropped and involuntarily my hand that was resting on the book was trembling. I felt weak in my legs--an irresistible urge to sit before I collapsed. The moisture in my eyes had cascaded onto my cheeks. I stole a final stare at my score before I fell into a chair.

"172--99th percentile." I did better on the test than 99% of the people who took the test??

I felt faint . . . mission accomplished.