Humility takes time to perfect

Humility is defined differently by many: lack of pride; modest; meek; shy; primary virtue; unpretentious; down to earth; self-abasement; sense of one’s own unworthiness; etc.

Benjamin Franklin said, “Humility makes great men twice honorable.”

I am learning the art of being humble: I am playing duplicate bridge twice a week. I play with rural women and men and some city slickers too.

You might ask what this has to do with mental health. The answer is simple: some things destroy and some things build; duplicate bridge destroys my mental health but helps me develop the virtue of humility; hopefully that is a good trade-off, something I need to learn.

Just when I think I’m smart and accomplished and full of good self-esteem, Monday or Friday roles around and I trek down the street to the huge room with at least 60 card tables and the accompanying 240 camouflaged warriors.

I meet my partner who smiles and gives me a hug and it is all downhill from there.  I walk in feeling self-assured, and leave three hours later laughing and shaking my head at the absurdity of my muddled brain and my illogical card playing. It is not about duplicate bridge; it is about becoming more humble.

I thought I had learned my humility lessons in life when I tried for four years to bowl. In the ladies bowling league, my average started at 113 and after weekly, 30 mile trips to the bowling alley, it ended at 98. At that point I told myself, “There must be something I am better at than this!”

That story reminds me of another humility lesson in my past; softball. The coach of this adult team said, “We don’t care that you can’t bat, catch the ball, run fast, and that you have never played before…..we need you.” After the first game my coach believed me. Kind man that he was he spent the remainder of the season throwing the ball my way in the hope that I could someday not duck, but hit the ball with the bat.

I also had humility training at the golf course. Another kind man sold me five golf lessons for $100.00. After several weeks of being at the driving range at 6:30 in the morning for the first three lessons and hours of practice I asked him, “When do I get to go out on the course?” He looked me straight in the eye, and with a slight edge of frustration said, “Jennifer, you have to learn to hit the ball first!” He still owes me lessons four and five.

So, I obviously haven’t learned this humility lesson well enough, yet. But never fret, I have tenacity; Friday is just around the corner.

Until the next time: Live while you live!