Chasing Dogs and Chasing Humility

"All wonder and worship can only grow out of smallness."

This past week has left me feeling very small.

On Friday, I ran into a mailbox. Now, reading that sentence, it makes me (almost) want to laugh, but at the time it was no laughing matter. I wasn't texting. I wasn't on the phone. I wasn't reaching for anything. The mailbox (even Andrew admitted) was very, very close to the road. I had both hands on the wheel, eyes straight ahead, and I still ran into a mailbox. I dented the front bumper so badly that we can't open the front passenger door at all. I have white streaks and dents running the whole length of the car. Did I mention this is our brand new car? Oh yes, I feel small.

On Sunday night I couldn't sleep. I woke up at 3am and our in-laws' dog was pacing the house. We were watching her that day and night and she is a very timid dog. She hadn't gone to the bathroom or eaten all day long. I decided I should try one more time to take her out. Not a good idea. I should've climbed back in bed when I stepped out and felt the rain. "I'll make it quick," I thought to myself.

I walked her up and down the driveway. She's scared of grass (or at least our grass) and refused to step foot on anything but pavement. Giving up, I started walking her into the garage. Except that she wasn't following. Did I mention she is a large, strong dog? She dug her front paws in and refused to budge. I pulled harder on the leash. She pulled harder against the leash. And all of a sudden she shrugged out of the collar and ran off into the night. I just stood there, dumbfounded, in the middle of my driveway. It's 3 am. It's raining. The dog is dark brown. The night is black. And I have now lost my in-laws' dog. It was a pretty low point for me. I felt really small. Really defeated.

Long story short - I chased her for half an hour before finally giving up and waking Andrew up. We chased her for another half hour before finally cornering her on the back deck and wrestling (seriously) her into the garage. We fell back into bed exhausted and wet at 4am.

Small.

As I was driving the next day (being extra careful to avoid mailboxes), I reflected on these two events. Where is the joy in a careless accident? What can possibly redeem the frustration of an hour long dog chase in the dead of night?

As I mentioned in a previous post, I'm reading a book that is challenging me to do just that - to search for joy in the most unlikely places. This one has me stumped.

And then as I was reading this morning, I stumbled upon the word "humility." Humility has always been an enigma to me. It's one of the character traits we know we should have, but one we don't necessarily want to ask for, for fear of how God will accomplish it in our lives. And trying to attain humility? Futile. The truly humble do not even recognize they are humble. They just are.

"...to receive a gift the knees must bend humble and the hand must lie vulnerably open and the will must bow to accept whatever the Giver chooses to give."

These two events were not gifts. Were they?

I could spend my time asking Why? Why did this happen to me? I could blame God. Why didn't you help me out of this mess? Why didn't you steer me away from that mailbox. Why didn't you just let me sleep that night? I could complain. I could entertain bitterness. I could beat myself up and put myself down. I could stuff all the emotions and pretend it doesn't matter.

Or I could stoop low and embrace the gift of humility.

"Lament is a cry of belief in a good God, a God who has His ear to our hearts, a God who transfigures the ugly into beauty. Complaint is the bitter howl of unbelief in any benevolent God in this moment, a distrust in the love-beat of the Father's heart."

It's okay - the not knowing. I don't get it, but I don't need to. He is just asking me to come to Him, to bend the knee, to cry out to Him. To humble myself, release pride.

"Let go of trying to do, let go of trying to control...let go of my own way, let go of my own fears. Leave the hand open and be. Be at peace. Bend the knee and be small and let God give what God chooses to give because He only gives love and whisper surprised thanks. This is the fuel for joy's flame. Fullness of joy is discovered only in the emptying of will. I hadn't known that joy meant dying...."

Whisper thanks....

Thanks for a car that still runs.....
Thank you that we are unhurt.....
Thank you for a warm bed to return to....
Thank you for a new day, a fresh start.....

"The more I learn His love, the less likely I am to Israelite complain and the more I genuinely lament, complaint that trusts His heart."

--All quotes borrowed from One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp