I’m often far too critical of my own work, and today provided an excellent example of that.
I was painting today- a particularly tricky window, changed from a grey to a nice, dark shade of blue. In the process of putting on the first coat on, I stepped back, and wasn’t quite satisfied with how it was coming. Too dark in some places, too light in others. The second coat might fix some of that, but the uncertainty and insecurity gnawed at me.
Dan– as upbeat and positive a manager as I’ve ever met, quite the trick given how many hours he puts in- popped by just after lunch to check up on us, and drop off a couple of things he’d forgotten in the morning. He thought it looked really good, but I chalked some of that up to him staying positive about things (not a bad attribute in a manager), and didn’t quite believe it. But he also pointed out something I missed in the prep- so he’s not afraid to critique when he has to, and get us to fix something we messed up.
A short time later, someone else who was working on the garden for the house made a similar remark. So maybe, I thought, they were right, and I was wrong. Ahub‘s comments, before and after I’d finished the large windows, clinched it.
The lesson was- and it’s a lesson I’ve gotten beat over the head with in recent months- is that I need to be less critical of myself. So what if I don’t think it’s perfect? Maybe someone else does. Or maybe it’s better than I think.
So what’s the sense in beating myself up over it? Praise God for helping me to see the forest for the trees.