A - Z Challenge - O: One (Opinion)

Years ago, I wrote an angst-ridden blog post called 'An Audience of One', reminding myself that the only opinion that matters is God's. I clearly needed a lot of reminding; as I read that post now I hear my somewhat shrill voice worrying about what I look like, what I sound like, what people think, what I should do, what I should say... in fact, who I actually am. I use italics a lot. I repeat myself a lot. 

I'll give 2013 me a lot of credit for being honest about things, and for pouring it all out in an authentic way - I remember people got in touch because of this post and used those wonderful words, 'Me too', so I'm not going to be too disparaging. But what struck me as I read that old post was how some things change, and some don't. 

I am ten years older, and what a decade it's been. I am thankful that I didn't know what the future held back then; indeed how glad I am that I don't know what still lies ahead; I have less curiosity than ever. Since I wrote that post I have nursed my lovely mum through increasing infirmity and held her hand as she drew her last breath. I have cleaned up pools of blood, spent days and nights in hospitals and waited on ambulances that never came (I have voted in general elections, you can be quite sure of that). I have made phone calls that I never wanted to make, heard news that I had been dreading. I have walked alongside (and continue to support) loved ones who have been through some of the worst trauma that you can imagine. I have witnessed terror and confusion, despair and fear, but also hope, resilience, and peace and healing, in lots of different forms, and not always the kind of healing that we want. 

I am greyer than I was, with crows feet and jowls that I never used to have and no amount of 'upward massage' and night cream is going to take away the frown lines between my eyes. I am heavier than I was, and I worried about the way I looked even then. My eyesight is worse, my knees hurt more and I get more indigestion. 

Do I still worry about other people's opinions? Maybe, but not so much. Not because I'm getting things right that I used to get wrong, but because I care a lot less what people think. With the exception of a very few people, I try to take no notice. They don't know me. They don't see the world as I do. And if I wouldn't go to someone for advice, I will not accept their criticism. 

I don't spend a lot of time making small talk with people I don't want to be with. My world shrank as Mum needed more and more care, and now I am free to push back the boundaries again, I find that I am choosing which things I want to reinstate, and that is liberating. My time and energy are limited.

Do I still rehash conversations and phone calls and worry about whether I got it right? Sometimes, a little, I think, but after years of fighting for support services, making arrangements and appointments, legal enquiries and advocating for one person or another I worry less about the small things. 

That's what it comes down to: the small things. Working out what really matters, and what doesn't. I suppose by the time most people get to their fifties they have had their share of sadnesses and hurts, and I hope that I have tried to begin to learn what there is to learn from the way that life changes you, and adjustments that must be made, though I know that I still have a way to go. Sometimes you can only reflect on something when it is in the rear view mirror, so to speak, and some of the heavy stuff is still very much current. 

Here are a few disorganised thoughts about things that matter (and maybe things that don't).

I loved my Mum, and she knew that she was loved. My care for her in those last months, weeks, days, hours, minutes... it was imperfect, but I did my best. She died comfortably in her own bed with her family around her, and that's what she wanted. I am proud that I managed to give that to her. 

We have been, and are going through some tough times that most people don't have to navigate. It is hard and I am doing my best. The first time someone said that to me, I cried. Since then, I have been able to pass that wonderful bit of wisdom along to others, and it often elicits the same response. 

"This is hard, and you are doing your best." 

I try to forgive myself when I get things wrong. I get tired, I get irritable, I get overwhelmed. Sometimes I don't know the answer. I need time to myself even when other people think I should be available for them. If I can't do it, I can't do it. 

It's ok if someone doesn't think well of me. People are capable of handling disappointment and I will manage to survive someone's scowl or sulk. If I say the wrong thing in a conversation in the frozen food department of the supermarket with someone I haven't seen in a few years, well, it'll probably be a few more years before I see them again. And I do most of my shopping online now, anyway. 

I cannot control everything. Not everything is my fault. It's ok to say no. These days I say no more than I say yes, to be honest, and I'm alright with that. Would ten-year-ago-me be alright with it? I don't know, but I suspect not. Am I happy about what I had to go through to learn about saying no? No, certainly not, but let's celebrate that I got there at all. 

Every cat is a therapy cat. I have three black rescue cats, Noodle, Spike and Bean. They were sent from God to make me smile. When Spike tries to catch a fly and falls off the windowsill, or when Bean curls up on my lap and purrs, those are moments that matter, I am sure of it.

So I think I was right to remind myself that the only opinion that matters is God's opinion. I had the right idea. What's different is that I worried about such a lot of small things that don't seem very important or relevant any more. It's all a matter of perspective. 

Yes, I play to an audience of One, but the audience is not dissatisfied and giving me a slow hand-clap; he is cheering me on. He is proud of me. This is hard and I am doing my best. If God wants more from me, then he'll have to give me what I need to deliver more, but I am persuaded that he knows how hard it's been, how hard I've been trying, how tired I am. 

In the words of the wonderful Adrian Plass, God is nice, and he loves me. I don't think he cares about a lot of the small stuff. And, maybe, just as my ten year old blog post seems a bit lightweight and trivial (but it really didn't feel that way at the time), maybe an awful lot more of life is smaller than we think.

Lord God, teach me what actually matters.

An audience of one

Are you listening, Lord? 

Are you watching? 

Are you there, right there, as I sit in front of my computer with my fingers on the keys?  Because I've started this and I don't know what I'll say next. 

It's something about who I am and why I am that I want to get off my chest today; it's a bit vague and I'm hoping it'll take shape as I talk because quite often if I waited until my ideas and questions had form I'd wait forever and I'd be sitting here intending to talk to you but never starting because I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to say. 

So here I am. Are you? 

You've said you are, and so you must be. 

Waiting. Watching. Listening. Waiting with a smile, encouraging. Expectant, because you know what I'm going to say before I do.

'Before a word is on my tongue, you, O Lord, you know it completely.'

Psalm 139:4

I spend my life trying to please people. I'm not sure why, but I worry an awful lot about what people think. Always have. To some extent I'm better than I used to be, but I'm still preoccupied by people's opinion of me too much of the time. 

I'm the sort of person who stops in the supermarket to exchange a spontaneous few words with an acquaintance and then plays the conversation back in my mind over and over wishing that I'd said something else, or not said anything; considering and fretting over what the other person thought, what impression they must have of me. After such an inconsequential exchange I am quite sure that the other person is thinking of nothing but the frozen food or their shopping list but I can go over it and over it. You'll know that it's not unusual for me to make a phone call and then put down the phone afterwards and stand where I am chewing a finger, deep in thought, and I'm rehashing it in my mind. Usually there's something I'd have done differently.

So you'll know what a minefield of potential gaffes the average day is for me. And it's not only what I say - it's how I look (what do people think?) and decisions I make (do people approve?) and how I act (how do people see me?). 

I know what it is that I want people to see when they look at me; I know what I would have people think, most of the time; it's just that I always fall short of my own idea of what I should be, and so I'm convinced that I fall short in other people's assessment of me as well. I'm constantly assessing and regretting and wincing at my perceived mistakes. Sometimes I'm crippled by it. Immobile. I assume that the thing people notice is the bit I'd hide if I could. I assume that other people are always assessing too and yet I know this isn't true. Most people are much more peaceful and accepting than I give them credit for. But then again...maybe they're not...

You see how I tie myself up in knots? 

Somebody said something to me the other day that has thrown all this into relief. 

I am playing to an audience of one. 

Of One. 

It doesn't matter what other people think. The only opinion that matters is yours,  Lord God. 

Of course, I have programming that needs to be undone I think; I seem to have become wired to assess and worry and this has given rise to self consciousness and diffidence and indecision. I almost never have confidence in my own decision making; if I decide something and immediately someone questions me I am invariably shaken. I wonder if I was right after all, should I perhaps have thought differently... and the process cycles once again. 

Why am I like this? I don't know. That's a whole other Thing. Maybe one day I'll luxuriate in someone's deconstruction and come out understanding myself in a whole new way; or maybe one day I'll just learn to let go of it and be transformed into a whole new person. Maybe I can climb the mountain to a higher level where the air is different and I can be freer. Who knows, but you? 

But I had a little breakthrough.

An audience of one. 

Recently I've had to make several decisions involving different people with different expectations of me. Each time I've been in the position where I couldn't please everyone. Each time I've agonised about it and worried about it and the truth is that there is only one opinion that really matters. I still have some tricky decisions coming up and I need to be sure that I am doing what pleases you. Not pleasing other people so that they will have a high opinion of me. Not pleasing other people so that I can gain a sense of self-worth because they depend on me. Not doing something so that I look good/busy/godly/committed/needed/competent/efficient/any other adjective I can insert to prop up my frail ego. What other people think is of dramatically lower importance than what you think.

'Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of God.'

Galatians 1:10

An audience of one. 

Lord, that's easier said than done. I often feel obliged to do things - I find saying no very hard. I worry that people will be disappointed or disapproving. But I find that when I take on something for the wrong reasons it becomes stressful and oppressive and overwhelming; indeed I've just extricated myself very painfully from one commitment that has been nothing but anxiety from day one and I am still not sure why I said I'd do it in the first place, other than that people expected me to. Not good enough. 

It all comes down to being close to you. Walking close enough to hear your voice. Holding on tight enough so that I feel your presence. Stopping long enough to look and see the real picture. If I don't do that then I dash past knocking things flying and getting it wrong and having to go back and pick up the broken pieces. 

So I have lots of claims on my time. Since Katy has started school I have more time and I don't know where it's going. I'm busier than ever and the only, only thing I'm sure of is that you are waiting for me to dedicate some of that time to you. There are worthy things out there; enjoyable and less so, things that are productive and undoubtedly need doing - but I need to stop, wait and discern which of those things are for me because you want me to do them, and you have equipped me for them, and which I would do only because someone else wants me to do them. 

What do people think of me?

What do you think of me?

An audience of one.

I want you to approve of me. I want you to be pleased with me. I want to be less concerned with the opinion of others. I don't mean that I want to be careless of it - but not desperate for it. I just want to learn how to walk with confidence in the steps you have carved for me, secure in the knowledge that I am doing all I can to be your servant, and my significance comes from that. Not from the ideas that another person has of me. Of course I want to be thought of highly, and I should, because I carry the family name and I should look after it.  I mustn't pursue others' approval at all costs. 

'Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as though you were working for the Lord and not for his people. Remember that the Lord will give you as a reward what he has kept for his people. For Christ is the real Master you serve.'

Colossians 3:23,24

Amen. Help me to remember that, Lord. I keep forgetting. My need to get things right has sort of gone askew and I need to ask myself who is marking the scoresheet? Who says if it's right or not? Every person in my life thinks that I'm someone different; only you know me, all the sides of me. You know me inside out. Every strength, weakness, hope, dream, fear, insecurity and foible. Many people would not love me so much if they knew what you know.  People would reassess their opinion of me dramatically if they knew all that.

But you love me anyway. More than that - you delight in me. 

You accept me because you made me and the angels celebrate when I get something right that pleases you. With everyone around me I have to play a part - even with people that I love who love me. Only with you can I lay my whole being down and be assured of perfect love however badly I get it wrong. However many times I have to ask your forgiveness. Why would I close my eyes and walk past that wonder in pursuit of another human being's flawed opinion that isn't based on all the facts? 

You are my Father and I am your child and I want to light up your face with pleasure because your opinion of me is the one that matters. I want to remember at those moments when I could go one way or another that you are my real Master. I serve the God of the Universe. Please give me wisdom and discernment and integrity. And courage.

I am playing to an audience of one.