I have been talking about humility a lot lately. I think that it has fallen on deaf ears, but it's something I've studied, before as a student of religion, as a leader of men on retreat weekends--I wrote about that here.
I've actually written quite a bit on this blog about Humility. But in the post, above, from March 2014, I'd just gotten out of a committed relationship and returned to Tallahassee to be with my girls full-time. In reading the post, it was very beautifully moving and emotional for me to read, but I just wish I had followed my own advice. Life just sometimes gets in the way. Circumstances and situations arise that take us out of our peace and we become reactive. We often react out of stress or anger or whatever, and we don't always choose humility.
But we always come back to it.
When I wrote that post in March 2014, my girls were 9 and 12. My oldest was about to become a teenager...and my biggest challenge. We went through some rough years while she was in high school and the three of us were living in their mother's townhouse. I remember the most heated exchange we ever had was one night when she was probably 17. She was in charge of dinner, but only as a result of not doing dishes the night before. That was my rule. If it's your night for dishes and you choose to put them off, they are expected to be washed and put away before dinner the next night. On this occasion, they were not. One thing led to another, and I let myself work up a load of steam before she triggered me and I flew off the handle, cussing and slamming a pot of sauce on the floor to make a point. It was an overreaction, to be sure. She left the house saying she couldn't live there with me anymore. Her's was a typical teenager overreaction, but I did not stop her. Before we went to bed that night, me in her bed and her at her best friend's house, we spoke by phone and each of us apologized for our overreactions and our part in creating the drama.
So even in our worst moment as parent-child, we came back to our senses and back to common ground. It takes humility to admit when you are wrong. So even if I didn't model it perfectly at all times, like I wrote that I would on this blog, I hope that they came away understanding that life principal. Being humble with people, especially those you love, can express to them how important they are to you. Like the last act of Jesus for his disciples, stooping down to wash their dusty, dirty feet. Humility that speaks love.
I've made so many mistakes in relationship, too many to count. But I still understand humility. Even when I don't show it, I always come back to it. In situations where I've been wronged, repeatedly, I still find a way back to humility. Even when I know that I was wronged, and I was right to call out the offender, I have humbled myself in order to preserve the relationship. It was a tough lesson that I learned from living with my Dad.
Dad grew up in a home where you had to PROVE you were right on any given topic. His surviving siblings will tell you stories of them taking dictionaries and thesauruses to the dinner table to "win" a debate with their father. They've all told the stories and bear the scars. In fact, James H. Doyle, my grandfather, was nicknamed "Preacher" in high school. No wonder where my Dad gets it. He's never wrong. And don't expect him to admit it, either. But when being "right" comes at the expense of those you love, by hurting them with your judgy nonsense, then what good is being right all the time? Where is the prize for that?
It used to infuriate me when my father would constantly argue with family members over things consequential--politics and religion--or inconsequential, like how to cook something properly. It was always HIS WAY OR THE HIGHWAY! There's only one right way (and perhaps there is for some things) and he's going to be sure to tell you what that is. He was an expert on things, just ask him. Well, no one was willing to bring a Bible, a law book, a medical journal, a dictionary or thesaurus because he'd even argue that THEY were wrong! He was always right.
There is no prize for always being right. Your ego can take the blow of being wrong once in awhile. You might serve the higher purpose of fostering relationship and peace in the home over being "right." But that would take humility. And so I would often challenge my dad, "Are you really wanting to be right on this? Or do you want to have relationship?" Because I could see him pushing away all of those he loved most dearly, over his ego and being right. Aren't those we love worthy of a little of our humility?
It takes humility to give second, third and fourth chances, but you are capable. I found I was until I hit my limit. After choosing relationship over being right a number of times, I had to stop and ask myself is this humility or is it foolishness. So I point blank asked my partner, when is it YOUR TURN to act humbly and choose US over your ego? Will you ever humble yourself and just say, "You know what? You're right. And I love you more than I love being 'right' all the time."
It's not always easy, but it's right.
That was my aim in 2014. Yes, I'm human and I fell short, but I do hope I imparted that lesson to my daughters. I feel that I failed to impart it to my partner. She just shat all over the idea, arguing with me until I gave up and left.
March 2014, meet October 2024.
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