Who You Are

I look at the e-mail, smile--and cringe inwardly. It's the same old thing.

"You write such good lesson plans. You are planning so well. Your ideas are so good." On and on and on...

I don't do well when people praise me. I don't like it. Oh it's good for a minute, but the aftertaste is bitter. Being told I did a good job, a great job, or the best job is like eating potato chips when I'm hungry--I just need one more, one more, one more. And there is a pressure that if I don't do at least that good next time, I won't be appreciated any more. Praise, for me, creates an inability to fail that is nearly stifling. Just sit with me, ask me questions, be interested in my answers--show that you like me for who I am. Don't praise me for what I do.

So I look at the e-mail, tuck it away in a folder in case I need a reference, and try to convince myself that my teacher really means that she likes me. But that is hard to do.

Thinking this morning, in prayer group--how often do I just appreciate God for who He is?