pedal back, pedal down.

Life goes so quickly that I feel like I'm constantly chasing after it. And in those few moments that I stop to breathe, I notice that life is happening all around me. The problem is, I look forward so often that I never really see clearly. I mark out the months. By trips or visits or events. And so I forget about the days. And then the first snow comes and the green fades and I'm left wondering how it all happened without me. Wondering where I've been.

Every year I choose one of my character flaws to really work on. It's less overwhelming. But I never say, "I'm working on my foolishness this year." I say, "I'm working on wisdom." Or "I'm working on joy." Or peace. So this year I chose to tackle a big part of me. My pride. I'm working on humility.

The first few months I get all excited. Maybe it's because I'm relieved to focus on some new part of me. Maybe because I think it'll be an easier one.

They're never easy.

It takes a few months for me to realize the depth of my problem. And how unattractive it is. A few more to recognize how embedded it is in my actions. And a few more to really get to the root of it. And once you're at the root, well, it's all ugly from there on out. Oh, and God helps me. He really does. This year He's given me more reasons to be humble than I ever remember having. Every time He sees my pride take root, He helps me fall on my face. I laugh about it. I tell stories about it. Sometimes I cry about it. But really, when I'm honest with myself- I'm grateful. A little resentful in the beginning. But I always end with grateful.

He uses everything. My kids humble me constantly. By the way they see life and move through it. My family humbles me. By the way they grow without my help. By the way they help to grow me. Books and letters and friends and trees and hair. He uses everything.

He knows those parts of me- the ones that I build the rest of myself on. Those parts that I think are really great. And He shows me- that my definition of great is really small. And that everyone has little bits of greatness in them. Different yet alike. Special yet common.

He reminds me that He is the great one. The shaker. The lover. The solid rock.

And that I am the creation. The sheep. The child. The unfaithful. The broken.

I'm getting to the point where it's refreshing. Being humble. It's liberating even. It's easier to laugh about life. It's less disappointing. I don't have to worry so much about what's coming up, about where I'm going, about if my direction is the best one. I'm where I'm at because of everything that He has done for me. Not because of my own strategies, failures, or plans.

And that is a great, great comfort.