Mother's Retreat Journal Entry Week #4

How does my own pride darken my light?

What are my prideful ways and how can I be aware of them?

Perhaps like everyone else, I don’t think about being prideful often.  I mean, I don’t feel like I have a problem with pride.  But surely there are prideful ways.  Pride is:

a high or inordinate opinion of one's own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.

a becoming or dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or character; self-respect; self-esteem.

pleasure or satisfaction taken in something done by or belonging to oneself or believed to reflect credit upon oneself: civic pride.

Those don’t seem too negative, except for the inordinate opinion of oneself or superiority. I think when we talk about pride as a sin, it is conceit, vanity, vainglory, and egotism, etc.  Thinking too highly of oneself, especially to overlook faults that ought to be addressed, or believing that one deserves certain privileges and getting upset if they are not provided, or comparing others’ worst with one’s own best are all elements of “pride” that certainly damn one.  I don’t particularly struggle with any of those, though.  I look poignantly at my own failings (I’ve had to learn to be kinder to myself), and am grateful for the blessings of home, health, children, gospel, finances that I have.  I know it could be otherwise and may still be otherwise.  I try to act wisely to keep the blessings I have, but I know they are not my “right.” I guess that I am too quick to judge others at times.  Usually, though, I give the benefit of the doubt as long as I can, and then  feel confused about what to think more than jumping to conclusions.

Oh, what are my prideful ways? I like to look nice, but not enough to wear makeup, or a bra, or do my hair much. I like to be talented, but I feel sort of like my talents have been buried for about 12 years.  Even my dreams for myself—of someday being a famous writer or even well-known—have changed.  Now I feel content to do what good I can in the lives around me, quietly. 

Perhaps it is pride that has slowed by progress on writing my grandfather’s biography? I want it to be good writing—worthwhile and with a voice, and I’m not sure I have that down,  yet.  But really, I want that simply because I don’t want to write junk, and I want him to like it, too.  Perhaps I need to realize the first draft is just a first draft, and get it down and then get some insight from others. . .

It seems to me like my lack of pride (pleasure or satisfaction in something well done) is more of a challenge when it comes to letting my light shine.  Maybe if I believed in myself a little more and focused on faults a little less, I would shine brighter.  I recently came across the quote (again) by Marianne Williamson “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I don’t know if that quote is true/accurate.  I think sometimes it is the small ways that make the most difference, and that when we follow God’s will and seem to be “playing small,” he can magnify that work and make a great thing out of it.  I am certainly one to talk about my faults, with the understanding that it creates a certain bond with the other imperfect people around me.  I don’t know.  I think I can be powerful beyond measure, and have that power channeled into mothering, teaching, serving, and thereby manifest the glory of God.  I don’t believe I have to be Margaret Thatcher (we just watched “Iron Lady” last night) or Mother Theresa to serve the world. I ask in my morning prayer “how can I participate in the work of salvation today?” and so far, it has been in little ways: writing a thank you note or helping a sister in need or focusing on my children or doing visiting teaching.  Sometimes it is even things like writing my Mother’s retreat Journal.  Sometimes I fear that I’ve failed at the big things God might have had me do, and that is why it is only small things now.  I do fear that.  Perhaps I’ve messed up what might have been.  But “what might have been” is something I’ll (mercifully) never know, so all I can do is work from where I am.  And I am.