Humility

Dear friends, 

Those who are in Louisville and nearby are experiencing cool August days, something that is very unusual and, in my humble opinion, absolutely glorious!

Speaking of humble things, let me offer this little story that came to mind today. Thirteen years ago I was in India working with the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth (SCNs) teaching English.  My time there was filled with great growth and learning. This story is not about one of the loftier lessons. 

Shortly after I arrived, the sisters helped me pick out a sari and other traditional Indian clothing. I only wore the sari for special occasions and the sisters always helped me put it on. Mastering the assemblage of a sari is no small feat! Each time they helped me, I studied what we were doing- the wrapping, the folds, the pins. I was determined that I would learn to do it without help. 

Toward the end of my time there I was at the kickoff of the SCN's bicentennial celebration. I had decided that I was ready to put my sari on all by myself. As evening came, I went to my room, excited to surprise everyone with my expertise in sari-wearing. A few minutes later a sister knocked on my door. "I've been looking for you. We have to put your sari on!"

Proudly, I told her I was going to do it myself. 

She looked at me and said, "But we want you to look good!"

I accepted her help. 

The word "humility" comes from humus, "earth." In humility, we are reminded that we are of the earth and on the earth. Sometimes we choose to practice humility, open-heartedly recognizing our dust-mud-soil existence. Other times when our feet float off the ground, someone "invites" us back down to earth. 

In the last month I've had the humble recognition that a decision I made two years ago led me into earthy depths that I didn't know I was entering. Darkness, dirt and grit, struggle. I wasn't in it all the time, of course, but looking back, I see that I was submerged underground more than I had realized. It is only as I am starting to reach back toward the airy light that I am becoming cognizant of how deep underground I had gone. It was a time of stretching my roots, fortifying myself in the dark, fertile compost (some of that compost was old parts of me), preparing for new growth. 

As I reach upward now, I am ready to be fully out in the light. 

At least I think so. Who knows if someone is about to step into my life to say, "Wait, there's a little more for us to do together before you go out fully on your own." 

If I'm being honest, I hope I'll always be willing to accept some help. It can be pretty lonely thinking I can do it all myself. Unsurpirisingly, I get less done working alone. Or I get stuck, and nothing gets done. I've tried it a time or two or three or...That stubborn independence was part of what sent me downward two years ago. Lately I've been asking for and receiving support to help me move toward the light. It is humbling.

Leaning into this interconnected humility feels really good. 

~~~~~~
And I wonder about you...

When have you experienced earthy humility? 

How does it feel to you?  

Who has brought you down to earth and who has helped you when you've come down to earth unexpectedly? 

I’d love to know.

With gratitude, 
Cory