This week I spent an hour with a friend whose life has taken an unexpected turn. She is in prayer about it yet she worries. 

"What will people think?" she asked over salad. 

I sensed in her less of a concern that she would be the topic of gossip than that people she loves might be hurt. I see that as a good sign.

One of the clever responses I have practiced that I never get to use goes like this.

"What do you think about my choice?" someone asks me in earnest.

"Until I get a summons to be your juror #4, it's none of my business." 

Sounds like a line from a movie. 

There are a slew of instances over the years when I did formulate an iron clad verdict about how someone else was raising their children, or doing their job, or progressing in their marriage. It kept me busy. Then sometimes I found out later that they had valid reasons for what they did, and that their choices meandered towards a good outcome. Or not. 

But as gray hair takes over I have receding confidence in my own ability to pass judgement based on scanty information. The line from Kipling says it well.