I was feeling pretty good about myself the other morning. For about ninety seconds.

I was journaling, writing down my hopes, intentions, and prayers for the day. “May I see more clearly. May I remember to look around with love. Help me be a better husband, father, friend, and neighbor.”

I wasn’t trying for world’s best, but I was serious. I wanted to follow more nearly. I really did.

Then, my pen wrote something that I hadn’t given it permission to write. “May I do these things without regard for recognition.”

Wait, what? Flirt with sainthood and nobody notices?

I looked at those words, the ink still drying on the page, and I came to the cold, shocking truth. I care a bunch what other people think. In fact, it’s embarrassing to think how often I imagine being admired for doing good things.

Sometimes, I even say it out loud. I’ve heard me say way more than once that I want my wife and daughters to be proud of me. Of course, some things I don’t say out loud because they aren’t quite as acceptable as wanting your family to be proud.

I often imagine what it will be like for my opponents when the scales drop from their eyes, and they see how Christian I am.

As long as I’m being open here, I’ll confess that I’ve even pictured what it will be like at my funeral. I wonder about what folks will say about the impact I’ve made. That’s probably a little too revealing, but it was shocking for me to realize how much the possibility of recognition motivates me.

What if nobody comes to my funeral? What if no one notices? Worse, what if I am not really doing anything note worthy? There’s a lot of people that want to be better husbands, fathers, friends, and neighbors.

Can I live a quiet life, doing small things, without regard for recognition? I mean, it seems like the Pulitzer folks would have contacted me by now if I was being considered. I don’t even see an appreciation plaque on the horizon.

Again, can I live a quiet life, doing small things, without regard for recognition? Any recognition? I hope so. In fact, I hope so a lot. I think that would be the most freeing thing that’s happened to me in a while.

If I could somehow get there, I would be free to walk a simple path, being and doing me. Unhindered. I could become the me God is creating, not a false me built on vanity and chasing empty recognition.

Sort of like the crow dancing in the wind, not because anyone is watching, but because it can. Like the waterfall that splashes when no one is there. Like the perfect lily that only a bumble bee will see. Like the kids playing soccer, and actually not keeping score. Like the woman praying and smiling in an empty room. Like the folks who love, not because other folks love them, but because they can, because they choose to.

Without regard for recognition.

I don’t care what you think.

Aw, that’s not true. I need a pat on the back now and then. That’s okay. It’s just that there are better reasons than approval to follow more nearly.