My grandmother would laugh when she misplaced her glasses. I always wondered how she did that. For me, that’s an afternoon of mental flagellation right there; I’d shame myself with frustration and disappointment until they were found.
I’m attempting a month of humility:
Humility simply requires a man to think of his abilities and his actions as no greater, and no lesser, than they really are. Real humility then mandates that a man knows and is completely honest with himself.
Grandma had humility in action – she accepted. It wasn’t carelessness; or a personal failing. It doesn’t need to be frustrating. It’s just a thing that happened.
Good lesson. If my brain is able to forget where I put my glasses five minutes ago, maybe it’s also mis-remembering a perceived slight from five years ago? Call everything into question.
It’s an opportunity to keep myself in check. Instead of drama and heartache, I “Humble-Up©”, and try to chuckle each time I catch my brain trying to jump the fence.
My shortcomings aren’t just bad things I do. They also consist of good things I don’t do.
Humility in action: So, I’m laughing more, and not in a condescending way. Well, less condescending. I’m laughing at myself; at my foibles, which are just as silly as the word “foibles.”
When I find myself thinking wrong today (which is going to happen), I’ll try to add laughter into the serenity prayer: I laugh at the stray thought, the unhealthy tangle ready to sprout. I’ll pretend I’m the grizzled older cop, talking to a hot-headed rookie.
“Kid, It ain’t worth it.”