What other people think.

Sometimes I’m not sure what to say to you, mama.

I’m not sure what you might need to hear.

I almost always know that you need to be encouraged. To be told that you’re doing good. That your efforts will give way to beauty. That your hard days will be tempered with joy (if you let them!).

And often I just write things down, writing what I need to hear, and hoping it helps you, too.

But I have to admit–doing that is hard.

Telling you (and hoping that you are, in fact, even reading) my deepest fears and struggles sometimes feels lonely, or fruitless, or foolish. Because who am I, really, to be giving you advice?

I start to worry about what you might think of me. If you might laugh. If you might roll your eyes and click to the next page. If you might think I sound high and mighty or weak and ridiculous or (worse?) just plain old naive.

But I keep coming back, because I’ve got this ache in me. This tug from somewhere behind my heart that pulls me to the keyboard and urges me to write to you. To share with you. To be honest and foolish and flawed if thats what it takes.

To try to be brave so that you know you’re not alone.

What Other People Think

Today I want to talk to you about what other people think.

We worry about it a lot, don’t we mama?

We try not to–sometimes we even practice not worrying. But somehow there’s still always that little niggling voice in the back of our minds, whispering…

Look how she’s looking at me. She has never liked me. She’ll never even want to like me.

I wonder if I look stupid in this dress and nobody’s telling me?

My kids are FREAKING OUT in the middle of Target. Everyone in this store must be thinking what a totally incapable mother I am.

Can they tell I forgot to shave my legs?

She would NEVER send her child to school wearing what my kid is wearing. What does she think of me???

And if our own imaginings aren’t bad enough (and I personally think they are!) sometimes other people even tell us exactly what they do think.

That our baby with the bare feet in the grocery cart needs socks on.

That we’re not good at housekeeping or we’re never on time or we are lazy or careless for letting our kids go to the store in their pajamas.

That they’d never feed that to their children.

We gather these things up in and store them away our hearts all day long–not consciously, not willfully, but just because we’re human. Because we’re trying, but we’re afraid that maybe we’re failing. And our minds like to look for proof of things to decide whether or not they’re true.

The Quiet, Unquenchable Truth

It’s easy for me to say, “Don’t worry about what they think, mama!”

It’s a million times harder for you (or me!) to actually put that into practice!

So I wanted to take a minute to help you think about this in a different way. A way that might make it easier to really not worry so much.

As I was sitting in church yesterday, one particular piece of a lesson latched itself into my heart. The teacher said, paraphrasing this speech by religious leader Ezra Taft Benson,

“We lose our independence when we give in to the bondage of [other people’s] judgement.”

Have you ever thought of it from that perspective? That we actually lose our independence when we give in to our fears of what other people think? That sacrificing ourselves to someone else’s opinion can be a kind of bondage?

That idea was so powerful and clear, it was like a punch to the stomach for me.

Would you wear brighter colors, style your hair differently, walk taller, feel better?

Would you be able to control your humiliated anger and calmly walk your screaming preschooler to a quieter place to calm down instead of hissing at him furiously through gritted teeth? (I’m not judging you, here, by the way–I’m 100% commiserating!)

Would you be happier if you answered to the truth and wholeness in your own heart–to the calling of your faith in yourself and in God or the greatness of something more than our one self–than if you answered to anyone or everyone else?

As I thought about this today, I felt my spirit lighten.

I felt strengthened by the idea of answering only to that quiet, unquenchable truth inside me. To me, that is the light of Christ–the understanding I’ve been given by a loving Father in Heaven of who I am and that I have a purpose greater than myself.

You might call it something different, but I know you can feel it and find it, too. Your own quiet, unquenchable truth. The tug behind your heart to go forth, to be brave, to trust and to act on that trust.

I’m pulling for you, mama. You are a glorious being, a child of light, a woman with courage and brightness and purpose.

Be bold and do good, and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.

with love,
Jamie