Close to The Ground

I still remember Charlotte the spider from Charlotte's Web telling Wilbur the pig that "close to the ground" is one meaning for the word "humble." At least I think. It might have been an entirely different word, but this seems logical, when we consider the most common meaning for "humble"-

"not proud or arrogant; modest"

Essentially, thinking less of ourselves than we might want to think. We can probably see how this could translate to "close to the ground." Low.

However, I'm not here to tell you that I have been practicing being close to the ground. That would be rather difficult, especially considering my fairly above-average height. I am here to talk to you about the most common meaning of "humble" which I stated earlier.

Perhaps a story would be the best way to relate.

About this time last week, I was, for lack of better phrase, freaking out. Printing evidence as fast as I could and hole-punching ever single page even faster. Why would I preform such insanities? I had a practice debate tournament the next day.

So I woke up on Saturday morning feeling rather... Nauseas, to say the least. My stomach hurt terribly, my head was swimming, I could barely stand up straight- I was flat out a nervous wreck. On the car ride on the way to the tournament, I just lay my head back against the seat and thought.

Why was I nervous?

I was afraid of failing.

Why was I afraid of failing?

Because I've done so at every single tournament I've been to.

Why is failing such a big issue for me?

Because I'm prideful.

Because I think I can accomplish great things, I expect it of myself. And when I fail to meet my own standards, I become terribly disappointed in myself, and then get online to blog about it and whine to all my readers.

So, in the end, I walk away from every tournament less happy than I could be.

Which is really quite a shame, because they are incredibly fun.

Anyway, we're still driving, and as I'm realizing this, I figure it's most likely the reason why I'm so dang nervous. Why I couldn't even get down a bite of breakfast.

So, right then and there, I close my eyes and pray to God. I begged Him to help me remain humble at the tournament. To set aside my pride. To not worry about my win-loss record, but to focus on doing everything I could to make each individual debate fun, educational, and good.

Soon enough, my nerves (and stomach) had substantially calmed down, and I could spend the rest of the ride in semi-peace, not having to worry too much.

So we got to the tournament. My nerves built up a little bit again, so I stepped into a corner to pray again. I found myself continually having to do this throughout the day, actually.

First round came around. It was fun. I had a great time. I walked in nervous as heck, sat down praying for calmed nerves and humbleness, and walked out beaming. I had no clue if we had won or not. But I wasn't worrying about that. I was focusing on the fact that I had had a good time. [I later learned that my speech coach, whom I had spoken to on my way out of the room, had later said something to my mom about how happy and cheerful I seemed. This amused me.]

The next three rounds went on in a similar way. I was walking in calmer, walking out happier. By the time the fifth round rolled around, I was just happy to do it, get it done, and then get myself some dinner. (Yes, my stomach was still refusing a single bite of food.)

My partner and I walked in. We saw the negative team. We smiled. We had our debate. And somehow... I walked out, absolutely convinced that we had won. I really don't even know how- the other team did very well. But, thinking about it now, I'm pretty sure that I never once prayed before or during that round. Either way, I had a grand old time with my partner, imagining our ballot, positive that we would have won at least one round.

I spent the rest of my evening pleasantly. I talked to some friends- some old, some new. I found myself happy, but... It wasn't the same kind of happy. It was not a humble, "I don't care how many rounds I won, I'm having a grand old time, my ballots can go jump in a lake for all I care" type of happy. It was a prideful, "Hah, I so won that round, and I can't wait to get my ballot so I can see all the reasons the judge said we won."

Big mistake. Like, one HUGE zit on the face of the tournament.

Anyway, ballots finally come out, and my partner and I rush outside to get them. The first one we pulled out was that of our fifth round. We snorted when we saw the names, knowing that the wining box would be checked...

Negative?

What?

We were affirmative...
Not negative.

There must have been something wrong. We had won that round.

What?

It took me a few moments, but as I looked at that ballot, I felt a sickening feeling in my stomach again. And it wasn't nerves, it was that huge slice of humble pie I'd just gobbled down. I had been prideful... And that turned up in me being disappointed.

I was, for the most part, solemn for the rest of the night. I didn't completely learn my lesson- I still let plenty of people know that I was irked we had lost our last round. But in my heart, I knew that pride was definitely the reason for me being sad about one ballot for the other team, but not even caring about the other three.

It turns out, my partner and I won one round. The other four, we lost. Was I upset about the record? No. Was I upset that we were most likely one of the lower teams at the tournament? No. Was I upset about losing round two? No. Was I upset about losing round three? No. Was I upset about losing round four? No. Was I upset about losing round five? Yes. I knew pride was the reason why I was disappointed, but I still couldn't push it away.

And now, almost a week later, I still sometimes think back at that round and wonder how we lost. Maybe my pride was the exact reason that we did lose. Who knows? Either way, it was definitely the reason that I walked away from that tournament so close to being completely happy...

But having it ruined by a little bit of pride.

That's what my lack of humbleness did to me. It ruined my very first debate tournament. However, I do believe that God really did help me with those first four rounds. He allowed me to walk out happy- ignoring the possible outcomes, and focusing on the actual debate itself. I hope that I will practice that humbleness at my next tournaments this year, and perhaps walk away from one completely happy. Uncontaminated by pride.

I'd encourage you to do the same. To be practice being humble. It can really help with happiness.

Just a thought.

[And, of course, I do mean having a lack of arrogance and being modest, not being close to the ground.]