Can you recall to mind the most embarrassing moment of your life? Bare with me here. Were there tears afterward? Did you want to curl up in a ball and never speak to anyone again? There was that nagging feeling that everyone was talking about you behind your back, right? Something terribly awkward has happened to you, like being naked in public, or getting stuck and having to be rescued, or having someone be mean to you in front of a crowd. Whatever your most embarrassing moment was, I’m absolutely certain it felt pretty awful.

Let me tell you one of my most embarrassing moments.

This last week, my church hosted Vacation Bible School—an event where kids play, craft, and learn about God—and I got to lead the worship. Basically, I jump around onstage and sing songs with silly hand motions, and it’s a pretty sweet nostalgia trip for the VBS’s from when I was a kid.

So I’m under the stage lights, flailing and jumping like a maniac to get the kids pumped, the music is blaring, and things are running smoothly. The kids are jumping and flailing and screaming, too. I’ve got jean shorts and a cute pink plaid shirt on with snap buttons down the front, and I’m very barefoot, a totally respectable VBS leader outfit. There are about fifty kids and twenty grown ups in the audience. Even the adults are on their feet and singing along.

And at one point, the jumping and the dancing gets intense. I’m having a great time with it, the kids and parents are making a ruckus, and I’m so caught up in the moment, so focused on nailing the motions, that I miss something very important.

I feel a change in temperature on my body. I look down and realize that the top two buttons have come undone on my shirt—and it’s exposing everything. My nude bra makes its debut in front of all the children.

I risk a brief glance at the crowd to see if they’ve noticed. The little girls’ faces in the front have split into laughing smiles. The adults in the seats have their jaws on the floor. The eleven-year-old boys’ eyes grow and gleam like Christmas ornaments.

Way to give the children a great surprise, Nat!

As quickly as I can, I turn around and fasten the undone buttons, plus the extra button on top. There’s no way I’m letting my girls bust out again (pun totally intended), and I sincerely hope that only the people I looked at in that split second saw my faux pas, otherwise I’ll be the talk of the church come Sunday. I can just imagine the congregation giggling to each other: “Did you hear? Natalie’s top flew open onstage! In front of the kids!” “No! I always knew she was terrible; we can’t let our babies see that! Let’s kick her out forever! ”

Pretty embarrassing, right? It’s not my worst embarrassing moment, not by a long shot, but it’s bad enough. I wear T-shirts and shorts to go swimming because I don’t like to show off what my momma gave me. It feels terrible to be the object of ridicule, and it feels even worse when it’s something you’re sensitive about in the first place. But that’s not the point.

That horrible awkwardness isn’t something to fear. It’s part of life. Melting down and hating yourself because of something socially mortifying isn’t going to help you any, is it? Can you take back your shame if you wallow in misery? Or if you stay home forever and let anxiety cripple you? No. No you can’t.

So what do you do?

As I fasten my shirt, I chuckle quietly to myself. “No way,” I whisper. “That did not just happen.” I allow myself a moment with my back to the audience so I can recuperate; the music is still rattling my bones, my fellow worship leader is still jumping with the kids who missed the ordeal, and I think about how funny this’ll be in an hours’ time. In about ten seconds from uncomfortable breeze to now, I’m right back in the swing of things. I face forward confidently and continue leading worship. My motions and jumping might be a little bit smaller, but that’s for the best, I’m sure.

The point is to keep going. I could have run offstage crying. I could have frozen up and stared at the crowd until somebody dragged me away. I could have not realized it and kept dancing. But I didn’t. I saw the problem, took care of it, and kept going. What else can we do in life?

There’s something so beautiful about awkwardness. Awkward pauses, awkward touches, awkward meetings, awkward anything. The beauty is laughter, the beauty is remembering that you’re not perfect, the beauty is allowing yourself to learn and grow from the mistakes you’ve made, the beauty is that it’s life, unfiltered, and that everyone else on the planet has a most embarrassing moment, too. Some are funny, some are harsh, but yours isn’t the only one. Sometimes the awkwardness comes from inside of you, and sometimes it comes from horrible, exposing accidents. Either way, don’t let the wave of embarrassment sweep you away. Ride that wave back to shore.

We’re one big, awkward world. All humans from the dawn of time (Kings, Queens, Presidents, CEOs, Disney Princesses and you) have been awkward, have been embarrassed, and guess what? The world still spins. Isn’t that great?

Good luck out there. Get awkward.