I sent this email on Sunday:

It is not easy to admit that I am swallowing my pride. In fact, it sort of hurts going down. I haven’t tried it lately, and maybe that is why I had to break my arm – so God could really teach me humility. Or, more accurately, perhaps the good that shall come of this unfortunate event is that I will be more humble when all is said and done.

The state of my house after five days is sad. It’s embarrassing, even if I do have a
broken arm. My dishes are going to take over the kitchen, and my dog peers at me from among the baskets of laundry. I told myself that a waterproof cast would take care of the dishes, but I was not counting on the pain. It’s not overwhelming or unbearable – as long as I behave myself. That means I chase the toddler, and throw myself in sight of a pillow before long to prop my arm.

The meals, though – that part is taking care of itself. (Thanks, Sue!)

Why am I emailing you? Because, in Mass last night, I thought of you, and of how each of you have offered me “whatever help I need.” And how I told each of you “Thanks but I’m fine.” And how Jesus let a woman wash his feet with her hair, and if he could do that, the least I can do is let a friend come in and help me with a touch of housework. If Jesus calls us to be humble, then I have a long way to go.

I’m swallowing my pride with you, and I’m hoping you will forgive me for not having done it sooner. I will gratefully accept your help, and pray a rosary for you, for any help you are willing to give. I am blessed beyond my ability to express it to have women like you in my life.

Keeping in mind that Jesus let himself be ministered to, I ask for your help. Call in the troops. I can’t do this alone.

And any prayers…hey, those would be fabulous too.

Thanks again. I am overcome by gratitude to know that I am “safe” in swallowing my pride with you. (And then I think – see how far God has to go? Good thing he’s not a giving-up kind of God!)

Hugs and appreciation,

Within hours, the troops were mobilized. Last night, A. came over and tackled the dishes. As a bonus, she brought her three blonde tumblers, and Toddler-tron had a play date.

So it’s my turn to be the one ministered TO. Why do I fight it so much? It’s really not so bad, once you swallow your pride. One of the replies by Grandma Glo went something like this: “Take a deep breath and let out a burp for good measure. Now that you’ve gotten that pride out of the way, let’s get the troops ready!”

This lesson in humility is making me think about confession – about how I avoid it and duck it and dread it, and then, in the end, come away saying, “Oh, THAT wasn’t so bad! That was actually…kind of…fun…relieving…good!” Why am I surprised? God wants nothing less than the best for me. Why do I doubt him?

He has a lot of work to do with me. Now, to just step aside and let him get crackin while these amazing women do what they do best…

Tags: Catholic, Christian, Faith & Reflection