Humility is good for my soul, thank you very much.
How about yours?
I get lots of practice being humble–when I’m not vexed, frustrated or calling for my engineer husband.
My Bible study ladies have been laughing at me lately as, each Tuesday morning, I’ve tried to follow directions for the DVD player and the smart television.
I was only trying to show a video of Handel’s Messiah before we begin our discussion.
In an eight-week course, I’ve only been successful on the first try once.
Humility linked to inability?
I’m the niece of two electricians and the granddaughter of two very clever men who could fix anything.
My teacher mother believed and insisted, “If you can read, you can do anything.”
I can read.
Many accomplishments are beyond my grasp.
Mom didn’t lie, she was just recounting her experiences with her handy father.
Compared to me, even a child is an appliance superhero! (Photo by Brandon Morgan; Unsplash)
She prefered not to think about the technical skills my unhandy father didn’t posses.
I obviously take after him in this department.
At this moment, I can seldom even get the garage door to open with a simple click.
Save me in my humility
I’ve told my husband he cannot die before me.
Who will fix all these objects that never work for me?
Imagine this: years ago, we bought an old house in the country.
My husband loved that house and all the clever ways another engineer had arranged basic devices like the septic system.
“Look,” my husband crowed, “Wendell left a schematic of where to find the septic system.”
Where was my engineer when the septic system failed?
Out to sea.
As usual.
Fortunately, once they arrived, the plumbers could follow the crossed lines and measurements–but not until I had dug up nearly the entire back yard hunting the tank.
Did I mention it was snowing that day in Connecticut?
(A septic tank, I might add, was an unknown concept to a woman from Los Angeles).
The plumbers laughed when they saw our handiwork (the boys used their Tonka trucks to help). “Why did you do all this work?”
He wore a jacket that day in the snow; used same truck.
Humility. The dispatcher refused to send the men out in the snow unless I uncovered the tank.
I merely followed her orders.
One nudged the other, “Must be a Navy wife, no one else would have done this.”
They loved the schematic and understood the hieroglyphics perfectly.
I didn’t care as long as the toilet worked.
Humility before children
During that same tough year my engineer was out to sea 75% of the time, everything in the house broke.
Even the telephone.
One day, I opened the toolbox to extract a screwdriver. Surely, I could tighten the screws on the pot handle?
My engineer’s children hovered beside me, anxious to help.
“I can do that,” my oldest son exclaimed. “My father is an engineer. I know how to work a screwdriver.”
My father was a geographer. He could tell me where to find a hardware store.
The four year-old fixed the pot handles.
Humility is having a pre-schooler outperform you in a simple task.
I told myself it was good for my soul to not be able to do everything.
Or, as the late budget counselor Larry Burkett used to say,
“Opposites attract in marriage. If you and your spouse have the same abilities and skills, one of you would be superfluous.”
Who is superfluous in this day and age?
Sometimes it feels like the person who can spell superfluous!
Humility is good for my soul
Electronic gear, computers, appliances, my phone–all defeat me on a regular basis.
When the hero comes home I cheer (as do the electronic devices) and admire his talents.
I need him to complete me.
But even more, my soul needs to be humble and recognize I am not the be-all end-all in every corner of my life.
I have my strengths, sure, but I need others in my life.
As Romans 12;4-8 (NKJV) reminds us in a different context:
“For as we have many members in one body, but all the members do not have the same function, so we, being many, are one body in Christ, and individually members of one another.
“Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, let us prophesy in proportion to our faith; or ministry, let us use it in our ministering; he who teaches, in teaching; those who exhort, in exhortation; those who give, with liberality; he who leads, with diligence; he who shows mercy, with cheerfulness.”
There’s nothing in there about electronics and appliances, but it serves the same concept: we need each other.
Including small children.
Tweetables
Humility is good for my soul. Click to Tweet
Even a child can work a tool better than me. Humility! Click to Tweet
Sorry, Michelle, I can’t hear you over the sound of how awesome I am.
Yeah, well.
There’s nothing quite so humbling as not being able to walk to the mailbox, giving up driving, and sometimes not reaching the lav in time.
Humbling, yes, but not lessening. I’m still me, and still able – I hope – to make a difference, through writing, and through the prayers I offer on behalf of those I am privileged to call friend.
People like you, Michelle.
I was almost afraid to read what you wrote, Andrew. Humility, unfortunately, is something you experience far more than I ever have–so far. Given my title, you must be a saint by now! Blessings to you,