Several years ago, I was leading a team at a church that had about as much stage presence as a bowl of oatmeal. And not the tasty cinnamon and brown sugar kind from the packet. More like the stuff your grandpa eats with his glass of Metamucil.
There was one glaring exception: Carol. (Not her real name.)
Carol was expressive. She moved to the music. She lifted her hands. Her face did more than just stare at the music stand. Unfortunately, it was often over-the-top. Did I mention she had...
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