This is my first full-length post in over half a year and, unsurprisingly, coming up with ideas on what to write about and then sitting down to actually write has been an awkward process. In addition, life has felt heavy the past few weeks. Due to a variety of personal reasons, as well as local and international crises, most days I’m tired and discouraged; I feel an overwhelming sense of how complicated everything is, and how small I am. Usually, I dislike thinking about how small I am in the grand scheme of things.

Although, unexpectedly, sometimes there are moments that remind me of how small I am in a way that is, strangely, awe-inspiring. Last year, I had an opportunity to view the northern lights right from my backyard. As I observed this incredible show, which extended from the north pole to where I stood in Minnesota and flooded the sky against a backdrop of stars that were trillions of miles away, I experienced a visceral awareness of just how small I was. And yet, my smallness didn’t come with the typical feelings of discouraging defeat, because in that same moment it also struck me that I was still uniquely me; no one else has or ever will be me. These reflections felt like an invitation for humility.

Humility is sometimes characterized as being weak, conciliatory, or self-deprecating, but these traits are simply misinterpretations of what comprises this quality. Cultivating humility actually requires a lot of hard work, self-awareness, and a solid understanding of the fundamental value of every individual. Humility provides a way to fully and genuinely embrace humanity while also allowing for a grounded sense of oneself. Developing this characteristic is not easy, but I feel it is an important component of growing up.

Of course, growing up is a process that includes maturing as well as aging, the latter of which sometimes occurs whether we’re ready for it or not (like, oh, say, turning 40). A new decade has led me to think about how I can better allow space for humility to express itself in my life. Maybe this acceptance of humility is an odd twist on a mid-life crisis, but I believe it’s worth pursuing whole-heartedly. Humility influences many aspects of life, from knowing one’s own personal limits to appreciating the fundamental truth of shared humanity. It’s a gentle reminder to accept that we are all complicated people who find ourselves navigating complicated situations and life experiences. Yes, writing these obvious acknowledgements might seem ridiculous, but I know I’m not the only one who attempts to oversimplify in order to make sense of confusing information on, well, everything. Too often, it seems, people or situations are reduced to obvious categories, or brief, clear absolutes; we crave the ease of quick answers and sound bite persuasion. But humility requires a deeper dive, it invites us to consider the “and,” the “both,” the complicated reality, as we move through life. It does not expect a fixation on siding with absolutes at all times, but, rather, recognizes that most situations include nuanced answers of truth. Importantly, when life feels especially overwhelming, humility whispers encouragement that our small, daily actions can have an impact.

Of course, in spite of the reality that I’ve had a lifetime to practice humility, I frequently discover that my progress on this journey is still very much in the beginning stages. For example, several years ago I volunteered weekly in my son’s 2nd grade classroom. I love kids; their honest insight never ceases to amaze me, and I find their universally quirky sense of humor highly entertaining. You never quite know what kids are going to throw your way, which makes interacting with them feel like a master class in improv. As a classroom volunteer, my tasks ranged from drilling math facts to reviewing spelling words and I did my best to help students practice the subjects they needed help improving. I enjoyed the challenge and, since I had several years of teaching and classroom volunteer experience, believed myself to be highly qualified for this particular venture. One day, as I attempted to explain to a student about why one of the words was spelled a certain way, I tried to think of an example with the same grammar rule and all I could come up with were exceptions. As I took a moment to think, the student looked me square in the eye and observed “You don’t really know, do you?” The insight wasn’t intended to belittle or diminish, rather, it felt like an invitation for humility.

It is experiences like this, where humility is encouraged in such a genuine way, that I can’t help but think we should all embrace this quality more. Because, of course, nobody knows everything, we are only human after all. We are all navigating life and our own uniquely complicated circumstances. And, in the grand scheme of things, we are all small. But it is important to acknowledge that smallness doesn’t make our lives any less meaningful or impactful. This is what I am trying to keep in mind, even as I write this post as a gentle reminder to myself. A remarkable aspect of humility is that if we all embrace our small, meaningful lives and the impact we have on those around us, while at the same time acknowledge the impact other’s small, meaningful lives have on us, our shared humanity, shared impact, will grow together to create something truly beautiful.

Recently, on a particularly cold day (the high was -9 degrees Fahrenheit), my kids and I spent part of the day trying out several cold-weather experiments. My favorite involved freezing a homemade bubble solution. After mixing together dish soap, corn syrup and water, we bundled up and headed outside where we dipped cookie cutters into the liquid before setting them upright to watch the fragile solution transform. The frost process materialized almost immediately into a beautiful, detailed patchwork of ice crystals before collapsing seconds later from the extreme cold and slight breeze. Later, as I thought about the interconnected pattern, I considered its parallels to humanity and was reminded of a quote by Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr: “We must all learn to live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality…I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made; this is the way it is structured.”

MLK’s quote seems to sum up humility pretty well. When the world feels so very big and complicated and my being feels so very small, it’s comforting to be reminded of how interconnected we all are to one another. Maybe this fundamental reminder, to constantly keep in mind our shared, interconnected humanity, is humility’s greatest invitation.

Wendi is co-author of The Unexpected Ever Afters blog and enjoys sipping extra hot coffee, sharing a love of reading with her kids, and exploring bike trails.

photo credit: personal photos