Humility

I just returned to my cold, dark apartment after working all day at the bookstore in Colonial Williamsburg.  My family is gathered together this evening hundreds of miles away in Coldwater, Michigan.

Today is Christmas.

I’ve recently received many condolences from friends concerning my perceived burden.  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” or “They can’t do that to you!”  One friend was almost ready to go over hill and dale to ensure I would have people to be with on Christmas day—bless her heart. (I did see my family in November at Jeff’s wedding and will see my parents next week—it’s not the end of the world!)

I’ve assured everyone that I really am ok, that I’m not tying a noose, that I’m just in between things in life at the moment, and that it’s only for a year.  In fact, given my career trajectory, I would be surprised if I ever had to work on Christmas again.

But it is humbling not only to work on Christmas, but also to join so many others who work on Christmas every year.  It’s good to have those moments in life that knock you off your high horse and make you realize that you aren’t inherently better than others; some people are just blessed with different lots in life.

Christmas of all days is a day to reflect on what true humility really is.  True humility is when the God of the universe takes off the mantle of His divine glory to take on the form of a helpless, pitiful baby born in a smelly barn, only later in life to wash the dirty feet of His disciples before being gruelingly executed on a Roman cross for a world of people who couldn’t care less.  That’s humility.  That’s Christmas.