"humility and manhood..."

"when the dreams
that you're dreaming
come to you,

when the work
you've put in
is realized,

let yourself feel the pride;
but always stay humble and kind.

“it won't be wasted time,
so always stay humble and kind...”

When this post started percolating, it wasn't hard to find a song to give it voice. Tim McGraw's  "Humble and Kind"  couldn't be a more perfect.

This morning I heard a little boy stand up in a gathering of his peers -- and some much older and very much-admired young men -- and say, "we shouldn't just be focusing on our own personal achievements, but we should be helping others too."

It wasn't a big deal in the context of the meeting's purpose - encouraging spiritual thinking. But it was so brave in the context of a current world mindset - one where competition and comparisons seem to thrive, and humility and the celebration of another's gifts, is seen as weakness.

If you know my husband, you know that he is the least competitive man on the planet. I think he has a "genetic" predisposition towards letting the other guy go first, encouraging his "opponent" to succeed, and lifting up the guy in front of him - or behind him, as the case may be. It is what I love most about him. His lack of self-promotion. His natural inclination towards helping others find their place in the world -- even when it means stepping aside himself. In fact, more often than not, I have seen him not only step aside, but have used his own time in that "space," as an opportunity to better prepare that place for his successor. He is a nest featherer -- for others.

And this morning, as I looked around that room full of boys and men, I could see my husband as a little boy. Scrawny-bodied, horn-rimmed glasses, a mop of floppy hair in a nondescript color. Imagining this was not hard, since there were a dozen photos of him on the wall. And thinking about that little boy, my throat tightened - not just with love for him, but for all of the humble and kind men who had helped to raise him to be the man he is today.

Around the world, at dinner tables and in locker rooms, at bedtime and on the playing field, fathers and mothers, coaches and trainers, are being given a platform for encouraging a version of manhood that will be either self-focused, or service-focused. This morning I heard fresh promise in the voice of a young boy. He is choosing to serve others as he navigates a world full of competition and personal ambition.  He is choosing humble and kind. And, he is recommending it to his friends, mentors, and leaders.

Years ago, when our daughter was playing club volleyball, a weekend tournament was being held at a private girls school known for its privilege. The parking lot was filled with luxury cars, and the host team entered the gym carrying monogrammed backpacks. I have to admit that I was a bit intimidated. But when I exited my Jeep, and looked up at the stone wall of their beautiful large sports complex, I saw this quote:

"Humility isn't thinking
less of yourself,
it's thinking of yourself - less."

It caught me up short. I decided I was going to look for humility that entire weekend. And you know, it was everywhere. Those moms arriving in sleek sports cars and tank-like SUVs, were spending their weekend serving home-baked brownies at the snack table. Those monogram-emblazoned team members were cleaning the locker room between games. Their booster club was selling snacks to support a sister-school in another, under-privileged country.

Humility is not weakness -- it is our greatest strength. It is not the conquering of others, but the conquering of selfishness, pride, and arrogance. Humility confidently sets self-concern aside, knowing that one's truest self is spiritually designed, defined, and governed by God. Humility frees us to fully use those God-given talents and strengths for uplifting,  serving, encouraging, and revealing the gifts in others. And in doing so, we improve the world we live in.

Today, I was so moved by the humility of a young boy. Each day I am deeply touched by the humility of good men. Good boys, good men in a good, good world.

Mary Baker Eddy gives some sense of this, in referencing Shakespeare, when she writes:

"Let your watchword always be:
“Great, not like Caesar,
stained with blood,
But only great as I am good.”

Here is to good men, nurturing good boys -- to be humble and kind.

offered with Love,

Cate

"I will…"

"Who knows
how long I've loved you,
you know I love you still,
will I wait a lonely lifetime,
if you want me to, 
I will..."

This post is not for re-posting. I will not be sharing it on Facebook. And there are dozens of love songs that I could have used to keynote this piece. But none of them said enough -- and most said too much.  Allison Krauss' "I Will," comes closest to saying everything and nothing -- all at once.

This post is written to put on record the heart of a man who loves genuinely, selflessly, and intuitively. He is my husband. It is to put on record for his children -- and their children -- his legacy of grace.

He is kind -- inimitably so. He is generous -- and in this time of "me first" social politics -- it would seem, to a fault. He loves me in ways that none have ever seen, or will ever know -- until today.

When I was a child, I never knew what it felt like to have  unconditional love or support. Everything was earned. Everything was reciprocity-based. Babysit your siblings, and you were shown appreciation.  Be accommodating, and you might know some kindness. Share your wages, and you would be fed. Do unto others, or nothing was done for you. 

I became a sponge for approval. An achievement junkie. I became addicted to proving -- to anyone and everyone -- that I was likable, deserving of friendship, worthy of the company of others.

As I have sought to become a woman of integrity -- and it has been a difficult, painful journey -- I wanted nothing more than to give my daughters the kind of support that I hadn't even realized I was starving for. I dreamed of being the kind of parent who put their children's successes above their own. I wanted to be the mom of my dreams.

Asking my daughters to live through a divorce and remarriage was devastating to me. In its wake, I felt a greater sense of failure than I could ever have imagined. I almost didn't survive my own self-doubt and sorrow.  I would not be here today if it hadn't been for my husband's constant reminder that I was - by divine design - inherently good. And that I was made so, not by my own efforts, but by the very nature of my one and only Parent who loved me without variableness -- God.

Over the last decade my husband has given me a glimpse of what God's love actually looks and feels like -- up close and personal.  He has helped me discover the coincidence between divinity and humanity.  He has put our children's needs, dreams, and successes so far above his own that it has taken my breath away.

And he has put my need to parent -- in a way that redeemed my own childhood -- ahead of everything else.

He has loved the part of me that was broken, shattered, vulnerable, and fragile.  And in doing so, he has given me a view of myself that is whole -- deeply grounded in spiritual integrity. There is no part of my life that is at variance with my desire for growth in grace.

I love him for what he has taught me about selflessness. When his sense of duty and service-to-mankind urged him to take a job in a distant city, he lived out of his car so that all of his earnings could come home to serve the greater needs of our family. His weekends were spent traveling to another state to care for his mother, and he spent every spare moment working a second job to support our home, and our children's education.

He rarely takes a moment for himself, often working through the night. And I've never heard him turn away from a friend -- or stranger - in need. He listens without judgment, he gives without condition, and he serves without any need for recognition or appreciation.

If I am becoming a better friend, mother, healer, and neighbor, it is because he has given me the rich soil of his unconditional love to grow in. He never ceases to encourage me to turn to God more fully, trust Him more courageously, and love more generously.

His love for all five of our children is knee-buckling. He has never complained that all of our resources go towards making their lives better, their dreams more achievable, and their potential for blessing the world around them more possible -- every day.

I am blessed. He has given me the gift of redemption. Through his generous love, he has allowed me to walk away from self, and into an ever-higher sense of who I can be as the perfect, pure, innocent, honest child of my divine Parent.  He has shown me that I am not a product of my past -- but the promise of God's love.

This post contains no quotes, it tries to make no connections, I am not seeking to say anything pithy or profound. It is simply an utterance of love. I testament to a man of great kindness, integrity, and selfless devotion to family, friendship, community -- and to God. Most supremely to God.

I am grateful. Our children are blessed.  He has been a gift of grace.

offered with deep love and gratitude to Love,

Kate