Humble I am not.
Though I've always fooled myself into thinking I am.
I self-depricate. That's humility, right? I constantly second-guess myself - my decisions, abilities, work. I must be pretty humble.
Then I read this book. And I find that, in spite of all this, I'm not, in fact, humble at all. I'm proud.
True humility serves, willingly, in the day-to-day. And each interruption brings me closer to shouting out in irritation that my plans, my desires, my wishes, my ideas are being trampled on. My focus is on me. Otherwise, they'd almost not even have to interrupt and ask. I'd be aware. Okay, I'm aware now. I'd jump in there to offer my help, my service, my thoughts, my ear, my shoulder, my arms and hands, my eyes, my laughs. . . without being asked and without getting irritated. But I am proud, so I only offer these things grudgingly and only after being asked.
I don't serve; I slave.
True humility gives genuine consideration to the ideas and thoughts and words and actions of another. And I fight and buck and muse about how "it's not fair". My focus is on me. Otherwise I'd listen, reflect, consider, flex and bend, change my mind, do rather than expect. I'd make the step forward. Okay, I step forward now. I'd lunge forward, without outside force, to engage in conversation and offer unconditional love and give what someone else needs. . . without having to be pushed there by guilt or exasperation. But I'm proud, so I only give after fighting with all my might.
I don't give; I give in.
Lord, humble me. I need Your help, Your humility. I don't have it in myself; cultivate it in me. Help me to serve my children and my husband in every small moment of the day. Help me to listen and consider the words and actions and thoughts of my husband and children.
Help me to be truly humble.