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Sunday, 17 April 2011

Saint Colleen

When I say I'm proud, I don't mean in the obviously arrogant or haughty, high and mighty sense.

How can I explain it? It's more like a sort of rather ridiculous vanity which is why I try to work on being humble which to most people may seem rather pointless in today's world of mad self promotion.

Like I'd like to be holy. Like a saint, you know? (Or maybe you don't, maybe I'm insane and the only person who instead of wishing to be rich or famous wishes they were a saint.) I like to laugh and joke though and I am a rather enthusiastic, smiley, chatty sort of person. I am too fond of ridiculous humor and very often find things funny that others may not. Still, who's to say there weren't saints with this very same trouble?

I want very badly to be a silent, humble and wise person. Like in my imaginary life, people would whisper together in little awe-stricken groups about how profoundly wise and deeply self-sacrificing I am. It's a weird sort of pride, I admit it.

So today in mass as I sat quietly in my pew, I was thinking "God? Today can you help me be really humble?" (I always get myself into this sort of situation during mass I'm afraid.) After I finished with these words I sat silently, smiling in what I felt was a calm and wise manner at the few people gathered in the seats around me and wondered to myself if my face was perhaps already glowing with a humble yet holy radiance. I knew my hair was quite shiny and that my lip gloss was freshly applied and thought perhaps that people would admire my gentle humility even more because of how very lovely I was. You know, like they would glance admiringly at me thinking that that girl has no need of humility looking like she does. (In retrospect I think God hasn't quite changed my heart to one of true humility just yet, wish it as I may.)

As you may know, today is Palm Sunday and though I joke about many things, I actually am very reverent when it comes to my faith. So I held William as I listened to the priest read the Passion of Christ and the most horrifying thing happened. At the most somber moment, the moment of silence as I bowed my head William began to belch. I say began because it must have lasted almost the entire moment of silence. The entire time we were supposed to be reflecting on the death of our Lord. It was loud and atrocious and worst of all, at such a terribly inappropriate time that in my embarrassment, I absolutely dissolved into a shaking heap of stifled giggles. Not that I am so immature that I find that sort of thing funny but you know when you know laughing is forbidden and that very fact makes the urge to laugh worse? So I stood there, shaking with laughter, or hysteria, hiding my bright red face in William's hair praying desperately that the other people thought I was crying. It was awful. I was so ashamed of myself. But I simply couldn't stop giggling. Honestly it was so inappropriate. Once I got my hysteria under control I sat there quietly, head lowered, blush fading, simply mortified...suitably humbled.

At this rate, I'll never be a saint. Never. And at some point I'm going to stop praying for humility as well if this keeps up.

You may read here if you are curious about the first time I asked God to help me be more humble during mass.

For some reason He always chooses to answer this particular prayer in a timely manner. ;)