Staying Humble

Whenever I start to feel overly pleased with myself, or maybe that I don't have an immediate agenda and can kick back, something happens to humble me.   I have noticed this over the years-- it isn't necessarily anything earth-shattering, but (for example) there's nothing like stepping in a puddle of puppy pee at 5:30 in the morning to keep you humble.  In order to keep my sanity I have come to view these little events just as gentle reminders not to become too self-satisfied.

My sons provide endless opportunities for me to embrace humility.  This was especially true when they were little.   One time, when we were all home sick, I thought I was being a good mom by serving them a lunch of chicken soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.  At that time my younger son was two years old, and he used to love to play with pots and pans.  He had a saucepan near him on the kitchen counter, the same counter where I was serving lunch.  This did not pose an obvious problem to me, that is, not until I leaned across the counter to help my older son.  In a flash that sweet little toddler picked up the saucepan and klonked me on the head with it.

Of course, teaching is a close second to parenting when it comes to keeping one humble.  A few years ago, a sweet child was talking to me about his birthday.  He was turning 12.  That got him started thinking about the future, including getting his driver's license.  We discussed the fact that he would probably get his learner's permit at age 16.

"Will you still be alive in four years?"  He asked me earnestly "Because I'll want to show you my car."

Of course, we never know what will happen on any given day, but I was only 43 at that time.  It was a little humbling to realize that this child thought that I might keel over at any moment.

When we're feeling a little low, a casual remark can seem like a belly blow to our self-esteem.  Some years back, when I worked for a university, my office was given to a new professor and I was moved downstairs into the AV control closet.  When I say "AV control closet", I mean there actually were bundles of wires hanging out of the ceiling in that tiny, windowless room.  From that day until the day I left I threatened to macrame something for the chancellor out of those wires.  (Ultimately, that plan failed, as I never had the patience to learn macrame.)

Anyway, there was a student worker assigned to help me that day.  "Where do you want me to put these certificates?" She asked, picking up some framed documents.

"I prefer to think of those as diplomas" I mumbled, but it was no use.  That day, I was already on the way down.