A lesson in humility

Pride.  Ever look it up in the dictionary?  Here are a few of the definitions I found:

 a sense of one’s own proper dignity or value; self-respect.

 arrogant or disdainful conduct or treatment; haughtiness.

 an excessively high opinion of oneself; conceit.

Humble.

marked by meekness or modesty in behavior, attitude or spirit; not arrogant or prideful.

showing deferential or submissive respect.

Humility.

the quality or condition of being humble.

Humbling.

To curtail or destroy the pride of; humiliate.

Apology.

An acknowledgement expressing regret or asking pardon for a fault or offense.

Now that the vocabulary lesson is over, there are some things I must say.  I rarely ever come across a word or phrase I do not understand, at least in English.  In fact, I tend to pride myself for my extensive vocabulary, as well as my command and comprehension of the English language.  Yes, I do.  But that is part of the problem I was faced with yesterday.  I pride myself on being open-minded, fair, a good listener, and humble.  What a thing to be proud of.

I would be better off trying to be those things instead of patting myself on the back for already having achieved it.  The lesson I learned yesterday was all because of a CD I picked up as a joke.  You see, I found out some months ago that someone I went to school with had gotten a record deal and had a CD coming out.  This guy had an amazing amount of talent and confidence, and I’m not at all surprised that he has gone this far.  However, I let my own bitterness of how my career has gone (or rather not gone) rule out.  I intended from the beginning to buy the CD when it came out because, after all, this was someone I knew, someone I saw almost everyday for 4 years, someone I was actually on stage with, and I felt a need to support him.  Unfortunately, when I told others about him and his CD, it was usually with derision and condescension.  I would rehash memories of the stupid things he’d done or his arrogant attitude.

I remembered how, during finals week of our first semester of Harmony, he sat in a booth behind me at a restaurant and asked me how I’d done on the final.  I told him (rather pridefully, I admit) that I’d gotten a 100 on it, and he flipped me the bird and turned away.

I remembered that over that Christmas break, the band he was singing with (I was their manager at the time) had a concert at a large church on New Years Eve.  After the concert, all the band members were supposed to break down and pack up the equipment, but he was nowhere to be found.  I was told that when they finally found him, he was in the hot tub at the hotel with a bunch of girls from the church.  I thought that was incredibly arrogant and out of line, but did I think anything about the fact that the night of their concert, I was at a frat party back home, drunk off my a**  for the first and only time in my life?

My friends and I did not make comments about him because he was untalented or ugly.  He has a wonderful voice and is extremely good looking.  He also knew both of those facts very well.  He exuded confidence on and off stage, and those of us who had not attained that level of confidence in our own abilities resented it.  I can admit that today.  It only took two words to change things for me.

I went to the store yesterday and checked to see if they had Josh’s CD, expecting it to be available by special order only (not a lot of demand).  They actually had 3 copies in stock, so I bought one and went on out to my car.  I opened up the case and looked through the booklet at the lyrics and the list of performers, etc.  I laughed at the “glamour shot” photos all over the place and made snide remarks to myself when I didn’t see any thanks listed in the booklet.  Then I took the CD out to listen to on my way home.  Underneath the CD on the inside back cover was writing—an entire page of names being thanked by Josh.  As I read I started recognizing names of professors and fellow students from college, and then my heart stopped.  I saw those two words that changed everything—my husband’s name.

You see, my husband was also a music major with the two of us, and since he was in theatre as well, he and Josh performed together a lot.  The big difference was that Josh had been performing since he was a little kid, and my husband had not been on stage until he got to college.  Because of this, Josh was always encouraging my husband, and myself, and others who didn’t have the confidence he had.  I had forgotten that.  I had forgotten that every time I came off stage after performing he would tell me how much he enjoyed hearing me play my flute.  I had forgotten about him telling me he hadn’t realized what a beautiful voice I had when I sang my aria for the first time in rehearsal for the opera we were in.  I had forgotten about the competition that my husband roomed with him at, the shows they performed in together.  I had forgotten the good things.  Please, God, forgive me for my arrogance, my bitterness, and my spitefulness.

And please, fellow bloggers, check out the music of my former classmate at Link      .