Fulfilling a purpose

I looked out toward the audience.  There were all types of people.  Some young, some old, some middle aged.  Some black, some white, some blue, some brown.  Some pale, some dark. 
On either side of me where my parents.  My dad stood to my left and my mom sat in a director's chair to my right.  A tall microphone stood inches from each of their mouths.  My dad was speaking.  His voiced traveled through the metal microphone and into the giant speakers standing in the four corners of the tent.  The tent shaded the crowd from the beaming hot sunshine.  The members of the audience sat in white fold up chairs, bean bags, or just on the soft green grass. 

It was almost my time to speak.  My dad was giving an introduction of me.  Nervousness started to pulse through my chest.  Anxiety tried to grip my throat.  Not today nervousness, I have a purpose to fulfill.  My left hand reached up to the headset microphone and adjusted the black quarter sized speaker only inches from my mouth.  It had to be in the perfect spot or else they couldn't hear me.  Dad wrapped up his intro by saying, "And now here is Chad Hepler."

The nervousness dropped the second I opened my mouth.  There was no room for it.  I had to fulfill my purpose.  I had to tell these people why they should choose a path greater than themselves.  I had to make them feel what I felt.  Drugs and alcohol aren't the way to go.  It's working, they're listening, their heads are nodding, I'm doing it.  I'm fulfilling my purpose. 

Ten minutes passed before I turned toward my mom and dad and started asking questions.  It was beautiful.  The crowd loved it.  I loved it.  Another ten minutes flew by.  My speech was done.  Now I was asking the crowd if they had questions.  They had tons.  Some asked three or four, some just one, but everyone asked something.  They were all engaged.  I felt high.  I felt amazing.  I felt like I was filling a hole that had never been filled before...