I think one of life's hardest lessons has got to be that of humility. And I think humility is most necessary when one is at the peak of indignant pride. Sharing my pain of wounded pride is not an easy thing to do and so I pray by putting myself "out there," someone might be able to learn from my humbling experience.
This past weekend I was doing some volunteer work at a children's consignment sales event. The work afforded me the opportunity to browse for items - clothing, toys, shoes, etc. - for my children, Benjamin and Elizabeth. I've been a part of this biannual event for about 4 years now, either shopping, consigning, volunteering, or all three. Through the years, I've chosen only to shop the final day of the sale, because a great percentage of the items are 50% off already low prices. It's a heckuva deal, there is no dispute.
Let me set the stage, because it is key to illustrating where my pride crept in.
Not only do I elect to shop the 50% day, I also volunteer to work this day. I volunteer for an 11 hour day, which includes the organization and disassembly of everything after the sale is closed to the public. It's a crazy lot of work but I do it because a) I enjoy hard work and b) I figure most people don't like cleaning up so this is one of the tasks where most volunteers are needed. On this day, I did not take any break, ate no lunch or snack, never took a potty break - but after asking the "owner" if it was okay, I did take many opportunities to browse for items as I was straightening clothes on the racks. These treasures were placed in the back room on hold until I had time to weed through them and pick the keepers and return unwanted items to the racks.
Well, the day overall was quite busy. By the end of the day, I had an embarrassingly HUGE pile of clothing items. At one point, as I went to the back room to add more items to the pile, some volunteers were sitting down for a break and I could tell they were somewhat astounded at the size of the pile I'd accumulated. With a nervous chuckle, I commented I would be weeding through them... but before I knew it, the sale ended, that time to sort my finds never came and the chaos of breakdown had begun.
Although there is a system for breakdown, the whole process is really rather bizarre. It had been a year since I'd been involved and although my memory can be pretty lousy, this time it seemed less organized. I was torn between thinking I really needed to assist and feeling I really needed to sort through the gigantic stack of clothes in back. Plus, all the remaining merchandise on the floor was sorted and certain items were being pulled; what if I had some of those things in my pile? At one point I decided I better get to the back and start sorting.
Well, oh, my goodness - even I was overwhelmed at all I'd set aside. It was absurd. Ridiculous. I'd offered to purchase additional items for the kids to keep at their dad's house so I was essentially buying for two households but, really, how much did I need? I was part way through the stack when another volunteer who shall remain nameless, partly because she never introduced herself, approached and basically confronted me for what I was doing. She explained that although it was okay to set some things aside, by hoarding them back there other shoppers couldn't purchase them and consigners couldn't sell them. She assured me I wouldn't be "forced" to buy everything I had held back but...
To say I was mortified is an understatement. I knew full-well what she was telling me was only right and fair, and yet I felt my defenses rising. I shifted my weight and cocked my head as if to say, "enough already - I got the point." My mind was spinning at the confrontration. A voice inside my head was like the Apostle Paul, tallying up my qualifications to justify in my behavior. Ah, here comes the pride. Thankfully, by God's grace alone, I realized this prideful change in my attitude and put a stop to it immediately. Had I, at that moment, tried to put a period before the end of her sentence, I would have made an even bigger fool of myself.
After the encounter, I finished my sorting and shamefully returned the unwanted items to the racks, feeling eyes of other volunteers upon me. My head bowed and my steps quick, I wanted nothing more than to disappear. I even contemplated leaving... and not coming back. Practically speaking, that was not an option. And besides, I had a lesson to endure.
When all was said and done, I survived. I apologized profusely through my tears to the person who had informed my of my wrongdoing. She extended kindness through a hug. The work was accomplished. My kids have "new" clothes for the winter.
I gratefully escaped the event as soon as I could. I felt like a criminal escaping the scene of a crime. I felt awful, really awful. It was a very humiliating experience. Some people could blow it off and hang on to their "rights" feeling perfectly at peace with the misappropriation of privilege. I knew better. My intentions were not to cheat anyone, and yet I knew I had.
This happened to me once before when I was much younger. I innocently, and yet clearly, violated a rule and was terminated from a job - on the spot. I have never gotten over that. To this day, I have issues with insecurity. The difference now is that I have a relationship with a God who is forgiving and understanding. He disciplines those He loves. I have been disciplined. I know I am still loved. Praise be to God! He loves me still and in spite of myself.
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