The Judgement of Other Men

Things are a little rough... to be expected...

I try to live my life with integrity.

I try to live my faith.

I fail.

I value too much the judgement of other men.

There are too many parts of my life where I consider the views of others.

--How I turn a phrase.

I take pride in the beauty of writing well.

--My art

I take pride in the praise of others because I know how to hold a pen.

--How I pray.

Puffing myself up, making myself look good, I mention I pray, making sure my name is on the sign up for our church's monthly 24 hours of prayer.

--How I reveal myself.

I take pride in honesty, transparency... I take pleasure in the comments people make about my frank self revelations.

...and here is where it gets sticky...

--My wife.

I love her.

I don't trust her.

I think about forgiveness so I can have her in my arms, even if it is an illusion...

And I think about how she betrayed me, and how much I hurt... And how I long to hold her again, and then...

...here it is...

...my shame...

I wonder what people would say if I took her back. (Weak? Doormat? Wimp? Wuss?)

And the shame of that stiffens my resolve when I should have spine enough to shove these feelings aside, suck it up, and just move on without her (because, apparently, I haven't really had her).

I value too much the judgement of other men.

It is nothing.

Of what value are the praises of others, mere mortals?

The praises of others are no more than a fart in a hurricane.

If I have courage, any guts, any faith, I would only consider my heart and the judgement of my God.