How To Know You're Failing at Humility

I love talking about humility. Because I know how hard it is. Some people think that because I talk about not being humble, I must secretly be humble. But people who are close to me know that's not the case. Self-knowledge doesn't eradicate the pride.

Still, I'm trying somewhat to work on it. Swallowing the indignation when I'm NOT asked to do something I know I'm good at. Accepting the little pinpricks of being misunderstood. Swallowing the words as the unbidden thought appears too often "I could do that better!"

I think I'm doing better. But then I come across some words of Mother Teresa, on Facebook of course. (That's where I do my spiritual reading.)

Let's take that apart:

These are the few ways we can practice humility:

 Yay, I love practical how to lists, bring it down from the vague and idealistic to the very practical. This should make it so much easier.

To speak as little as possible of one's self.

Oh. Hmm. So constantly telling MY stories of MY thoughts and MY feelings and MY experiences is not a good idea? But but but... I'm amusing! Conversations would be boring if I didn't! People WANT to hear them. Plus everything that happens to me is FASCINATING. So what I occasionally have to fight to get my story in? Everyone will see that it's worth it once they hear it.

To mind one's own business.

Not to want to manage other people's affairs.

Well, yeah. everyone should mind one's own business. (Childhood rhyme that got used a lot: Mind your own business, and I'll mind mine. Kiss your own sweetheart, and I'll kiss mine.) But not WANT to manage other people's affairs? What about when it's OBVIOUS to me how to handle something someone is struggling with? I'm a fixer! What about positive influence?

 (I am totally on the guy's side of this video)

To avoid curiosity.
 Oh, oh. Now that. Come on, what's wrong with wanting to know who is secretly interested in whom, who was the one who initiated it and how, why so and so REALLY left the group, and so on and so forth. I especially want to know what it is people said about me. Just normal conversation, right?

To accept contradictions and correction cheerfully.
I came across a phrase in the book 'Strange Idols' by Elizabeth Scalia which hit home. It was 'the addictive need to be right'. I am always right, and I will prove it.

To pass over the mistakes of others.
The curse of the critical mind. Sometimes all I can see is the flaw, the mistake. And then of course, there is the addictive need to figure out WHOSE FAULT IT IS. And to say 'I told you so'.
 
To accept insults and injuries.
I've gotten in the habit of muttering 'RUDE!'when I feel like someone has treated me the wrong way. (This happens a lot on the road when other drivers cut lights, or endanger me in some way.) So saint-like. You can just imagine Mother Teresa walking down the streets of Kolkata mumbling 'Rude!'and shooting glares at passersby.

To accept being slighted, forgotten and disliked.
Ah. Who can accept that? At least when one is disliked, you can puff yourself up into a dramatic victim status. But forgotten? To accept that? To say 'Thank you God that they forgot to invite me to that party' and mean it? 

To be kind and gentle even under provocation.
It's so easy to pride myself on my gentleness and selflessness when I'm with other gentle and selfless people. It's easy to be humble when you're with other humble people. Everyone is vying to accept the blame, everyone wants to be the one to wash the dishes or do the dirty tasks. But what if people don't respond in the way you expect them to? What if your efforts are met with suspicion, or even hostility? Can you keep your peace then? Stop the blood from boiling at the injustice of it all?

Never to stand on one's dignity.
When my dignity has been offended, I know it. 'This is not the way' as we say in India. Nobody should be allowed to speak to me in that way. I should be respected! I will not stand for anyone to talk down to me. 

To choose always the hardest.
The hardest what? The hardest response? To deny oneself, kill that immediate egotistical response that rises to the surface, to resist the devil within? 

Okay, so failing a lot of the time. But it's not too late.

This is battle. And it's never really done. But knowing the enemy is a good first step. And as hard as they seem, these battle strategies are going to help.

Let us begin.

Songs That Make You Think 'You're Kidding, Right?'

-- Jessie's Girl--

So catchy, semi-pathetic- 'Where can I find a woman like that? I wish that I had Jessie's girl...' But then you listen more closely, and you think 'How old is this guy? That sounds really immature.'

Jessie is a friend,
Yeah, I know he's been a good friend of mine
But lately something's changed
It ain't hard to define
Jessie's got himself a girl and I want to make her mine

And then you hear these words:

And I'm lookin' in the mirror all the time (That's what you do when you have a hopeless crush. You look in a mirror. At yourself.)
Wonderin' what she don't see in me (So hard to imagine.)
I've been funny; I've been cool with the lines
Ain't that the way love's supposed to be?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, twelve year old boy, THAT is exactly the way love is supposed to be-it's all about being funny and cool with the lines.

But then one has to wonder- was Rick Springfield just having a laugh at the world's expense?


---Two Steps Behind---

Walk away if you want to
It's OK, if you need to (Passive aggressive, anyone?)
You can run, but you can never hide
From the shadow that's creeping up beside you (YOU said creep, I didn't)
There's a magic running through your soul (magic, another word for panic)
But you can't have it all 

(Whatever you do)
I'll be two steps behind you (GET AWAY FROM ME YOU CREEP I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY)
(Wherever you go)
And I'll be there to remind you
That it only takes a minute of your precious time
To turn around and I'll be two steps behind

CREEPIEST SONG EVER. Also known as Stalker Song. Again, did he do it for fun? Could anyone have seriously meant this for a love song?

---Do They Know It's Christmas---

Okay I realize this song is MEANT to bean act of love- raising money and awareness for victims of a famine in Ethiopia. But but...

But say a prayer, to pray for the other ones, at Christmastime
It's hard, but when you're having fun
There's a world outside your window (I approve this message....)
And it's a world of dread and fear (...but everything outside your world of comfort isn't a world of dread and fear)
Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears (Okay, drought reference, fine)


And the Christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom (Little dramatic, but we'll let it go)
Well tonight thank God it's them instead of you (Wait what did you say? Maybe I misheard you. Let's hear it again...What?)

WELL TONIGHT THANK GOD IT'S THEM INSTEAD OF YOU


Yes, THAT is the appropriate response to suffering in the world.... THANK GOD with all your heart that in the lottery of life YOU got to sit in a comfortable first world house opening multiple gifts and sipping eggnog, and that some faceless Ethiopian was the one who got picked to starve in a famine. It's hard to grasp the whys of suffering, the reality of the great divide between the haves and have-nots, and there are no easy answers, but I promise you that THAT is the most selfish response I have every heard cloaked under a thin veneer of gratitude. Blech!

And then...

Do they know it's Christmastime at all?

There IS a world outside of the UK. A Christian world, that knows it's Christmas even when it isn't snowing, or when it isn't  possible to feast in the same style as rich first-worlders. The first Christmas was a quiet affair in the Middle East, and Christmas is celebrated in the poorest homes in all corners of the earth. The birth of Jesus is even more precious to His little, poor, weak ones.

---More Than Words---

Okay, I like this song. I like the melody, the rhythm. It's one of the typical songs that we sing when someone pulls out a guitar. BUT. I'm hearing something more than a simple love song.

Saying I love you 
Is not the words I want to hear from you 
It's not that I want you 
Not to say, but if you only knew 
How easy it would be to show me how you feel 
More than words is all you have to do to make it real 
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me 
'Cause I'd already know 

Did you hear that? No? What I'm hearing is a boyfriend pressurizing his girlfriend to have sex. "Baby if you REALLY loved me, you'd SHOW me."

THAT'S NOT REAL LOVE. Just saying.

Okay random ranty rant over. Thanks for your patient listening. Feel free to actually pull up the lyrics of the songs you listen to and take them apart too. Don't be sheeple!

7 Ways My Mum is Awesome

So my mother's birthday is one day after my dad's, and it looks like blog posts are the new birthday cards... so here goes.

---1---

My mum is one of those crazy multi talented people who can do it ALL. I mean it! She cooks better than most people I know- every meal is a feast, she writes stories and poems- often on the spur of the moment, she sings, she draws, she bakes and decorates gorgeous wedding cakes, puts together artistic cards, is a word game whiz, and is pretty much up to any kind of creativity challenge you could propose. Yes, yes, kind of hard to live up to that kind of awesome. My siblings and I survived by dividing her talents among ourselves. So we each have a fifth of all that genius.

Why yes, she DID make that

And that

AND that!

---2---

She is a Story-Teller. Quite effortlessly she can weave a tale and capture an audience, without them ever realizing it. As kids, we would be excited for electricity cuts, because when it was dark, the only thing to do was listen to Mama's stories. There were some so spell-binding we would demand them again and again. I see her weave the same spell with my nieces, and sometimes when she is reading a storybook to children in the presence of adults, adult conversation trails off and suddenly everyone is listening. I have somewhat taken after her in this regard, but only realized after actually being in the middle of a made up story, that it's not the easiest thing in the world to keep a story going while preventing it from boring everyone to tears ("And then... um... he fell down. And then.. um... he kept walking... and walking.. and walking....")

---3---

She is a Memory-Maker. She created all these little childhood traditions for us- every night we'd wait for her to spread the bedsheets over us ('fishy-cover') and then sing a few lullabies (Train Whistle Blowin', Chi baba chi baba) which was the most comforting and soothing sound in the world. I'm pretty sure I wished that tradition had lasted well beyond the stage it did. Then of course we had Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, we had birthday mornings where she always got everyone to make a big fuss over the birthday boy or girl- presents, cards, cake, being woken up by the whole family singing happy birthday. She planned and organized theme parties for each of our birthdays, with cakes and games and decorations all made by her- storybook parties, princess parties, Little Peter Rabbit parties, Facebook parties, etc. Inspired by her, we organized neighbourhood fetes and fancy dress competitions, made eucalyptus perfume, built dollhouses, climbed trees, took part in story-writing competitions, sang along to Sound of Music and My Fair Lady, and devoured storybooks.

How my cousins and siblings spent a lot of our childhood

---4---

She is Full of Fun- quite the life of the party, though not everyone who knows her knows that. I may or may not have gotten a little bit of my crazy from her too. Yes indeed, back in the day, I was the one getting embarrassed by the weirdness of my mother instead of the other way round. I distinctly remember coming home as a family from a wedding late in the night and my mother singing loudly and randomly. I was caught between embarrassment and wanting to be that free and happy and mad... so that night I crossed over to the other side. 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.' I also have many memories of family prayer times interrupted by fits of the giggles which yes indeed, Mama, was as prone to as the rest of us.

---5---

She is a Hard Worker. She is one of those Proverbs 31 women who work from dawn to dusk (well, apart from the essential Indian afternoon nap) and does not eat the bread of idleness- late nights helping us with projects, wrapping gifts for Christmas, cooking for parties, working on her catechetical lessons, making elaborate and thoughtful birthday cards, going the extra mile and not grudging the effort. With five kids and the urge to do things well, no wonder she looks tired in most of the old family pictures we have.

 Of course I look tired, I just had a baby!

---6---

She is a willing student in the School of the Holy Spirit. She has this special intimate familiar relationship with Jesus that at first I would just observe. How did she hear Him speak so clearly in her prayer time? How did she get so many prayers answered? How could she ask so confidently for the most insignificant things? Little by little I saw that the intimacy of love she knew could be mine too if I desired it. I've seen the possibility and the truth of a real, authentic, challenging, sanctifying relationship with a real, gentle, loving God- because she has that kind of relationship.

---7---

She has allowed herself to become a fruitful tree under which many take shelter. In Mulieris Dignitatem, Pope John Paul II says "The moral and spiritual strength of a woman is joined to her awareness that God entrusts the human being to her in a special way.... Thus the "perfect woman" (cf. Prov 31:10) becomes an irreplaceable support and source of spiritual strength for other people, who perceive the great energies of her spirit. These "perfect women" are owed much by their families, and sometimes by whole nations."

Many have found support and strength from my mother. Many have told me they wished they had a mother like mine. I have often directed people to her when I find people who just need someone to talk to, to mother them, to lead them to Christ. She has often served me as a spiritual director. When I have faced spiritual attack or darkness, confusion or doubt, times of struggle and misunderstanding, I knew I could always turn to her for prayer, for words of wisdom and for a Mary-like reminder to 'Do whatever He tells you.'

I love you, Mama. Happy birthday!

7 Ways My Dad is Awesome

 ---1---

He convinced his five children that his birthday was SO important that it was declared a public holiday plus everyone had to dress up and go to Mass. It only gradually dawned on us that maybe Indian Independence Day and the feast of the Assumption of Mary had something to do with that.

---2---

When I was a kid he also convinced me I had a hole in my chin, which is why water always fell down my shirt when I tried drinking from a bottle. He also always asked if I had washed my face thoroughly in the morning, and I would say yes and then he would ask if I put soap in my eyes, which I firmly said I had, and I KNEW I had because my eyes were watering. NOW thinking back, I'm like, "Waaaaiiiit a minute, we're not SUPPOSED to put soap in our eyes! THAT WASN'T FUNNY, DADA!"

---3---

He had FIVE kids! And would transport us around on his bike! Well, not usually ALL five, just three at a time, that's all. We were firmly told to HOLD TIGHT, and every time our arms started slacking, he would yell at us to HOLD TIGHT. We had elaborate systems and rules to help our big family work- specific bath times, specific seating around the table, family prayer where each member of the family got one day of the week to organize the prayer. We had one-to-twos, where each of us got taken out for 'quality time' with my parents, and official 'family time' on Sundays, where we took turns to choose our activity for the week- a picnic, card games, movie night, throwball, swimming.

Family time circa 1998

 

---4---

He is the Idea Man, the Can Do Man, the Man for Emergencies, the guy who ran summer clubs, took teenagers from church on camps, was the one leading the way up and down mountains, hiding cold Sprite in his bag for the girls who were on the verge of collapse at the last leg of the trek ('Leave me here to DIE!'), the guy who, in his 40s, figured out how to use a computer by trial and error, and then proceeded to computerize the entire church office system, the man who regularly rescues his adult children from any and all kinds of emergencies. (Um.. Dada? I ran out of petrol... again. Dada? I think I broke the microwave. There's smoke coming out of it! Hey Dada, what are your thoughts on picking me up from the station/picking up my friends from the station/helping me move/dropping me to the airport?)

---5---

He is the Man of Many Secrets and Surprises, usually in a good way. He usually has what you need in his Cupboard of Stores and Surprises. Chocolate, jeera golis, Haldiram's potato chiwda, tins of rasagulla. We just have to look a little pathetic and hopeful, and out they come. He also stores something of everything you might need- handkerchiefs, safety pins, used envelopes, tachni pins, rubber bands, band-aids, you name it, he's got it.

---6---

He is one of the few fathers I know who has been humble enough to apologize with tears in his eyes to his children. All fathers mess up. Few fathers acknowledge when they have.

---7---

His ONLY expectation of me and my siblings is that we do whatever God wants us to. You know what most Indian fathers want from their children? Not bad things usually- a steady job, a degree, support for parents in their old age (not that they're old or anything), his daughters to settle down in their late 20s, give them grandchildren. Some Indian fathers are even more demanding- a particular career, a particular spouse, a particular age to get married. My dad? "Do whatever God asks you." So this single almost 30 29 year old penniless Christian worker who goes where the Spirit blows still basks in the pride and love of her Dada.

Happy birthday, Dada!

 Father-daughter dance at a wedding last week

How Sue Classifies Myers-Briggs Personality Types

As everyone who speaks to me or reads my blog knows, I love to figure out which personality type everybody I know fits in to. Of course lots of people resent that, because they think I'm putting them in a box and labelling them, but what I'm REALLY doing is trying to understand and therefore relate to them better.

I realize that maybe it's to much to expect random acquaintances to sit down and do an actual test, so I have a quick and easy set of questions to ask them to assign them to the right box. Here goes..

Introvert vs Extrovert (I vs. E)

That's easy. Do you get your energy from being with people (E) or from being alone (I)? (note: I didn't ask if you were antisocial hermit because not all introverts are antisocial hermits). Also do you process your thoughts and feelings with other people (E) or alone (I)? (This is why I'm wondering if I'm an ambivert.) Do you live more in your own head (I), or more in the outside world (E)? Do you occasionally need to hide in a bathroom during a party (I), or do you think you're going to go crazy if you're alone for a few hours (E)? Do you find the idea of having the house to yourself for a few days exciting (I) or terrifying (E)?

Introvert Cat is apparently a thing.

Sensing vs. iNtuition 

Do you try to find patterns and underlying meanings to the things you see around you (N) or do you just take things as you see them (S)? For an N, someone offers help, and they wonder, "Does that person think I'm weak? Or are they trying to show they are more capable than me? Or are they secretly in love with me?" An S just hears a person offering help. Of course there are pros and cons to every aspect of a personality type. So there are no bad guys or good guys. An N is far more likely to read too much into everything, but they are also likely to be sensitive to actual underlying factors that are not obvious to S's. An S is the last person to realize that X is secretly in love with Y, and that Z has been unhappy about it for months. On the other hand, S's are far more easy going because they aren't affected by moods and drama.

 Thinking vs. Feeling 

Okay, if I was being negative this is how I would ask: Do you get your feelings hurt really easily? Do you cry a lot? You're definitely an F. Do you sometimes wonder if you're cold, unfeeling and insensitive? Do you get frustrated by illogical behaviour? You're probably a T. But when I'm being kinder, and more balanced, I'd ask "Do you more easily empathise with people? F. Are you able to logic yourself out of a negative emotion? T." And there you have the pros and cons. 

Perceiving vs Judging 

Are you open ended, happy with multiple possible solutions (P), or do you need a definite answer to every question (J). P's are more adaptable, but are often indecisive. J's are obsessed with clarity, they love black and white, which is good when it comes to standing up for truth and justice. Not so good when they want to impose the black and white on morally neutral issues, or start thinking their opinion is the another name for 'the only right way to do things'. 

When you're trying to decide which personality type best describes you, it's good to remember there are scales you can move up or down, and that you can develop different parts of your personality. Although I still mostly identify as an INTJ, I no longer think I'm just a cold mastermind.
 

I'm moved closer to the E side (ambivert?), am far more empathetic and F-ish than I used to be (effect of living with many F's and asking God for grace to grow in empathy and sensitivity),

and I've slid down from the very J side, closer to the P's, even accepting that I MAY not be right.about EVERYTHING, (although I'm still right about most things). Actually one of my favourite quotes is St. Augustine's "In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity." I'm trying to model my conversations and convictions on that principle.

Okay, so what are you?

Jesus Knows My Love Language

I went for Confession two weeks ago, and my penance was unexpected.

"Ask God to let you experience His love more. Maybe you are turning to some of your sins, because you don't fully believe God's love can satisfy."

As an INTJ, my faith isn't often touchy-feely. I am far less likely than an ENFP to post this kind of image:

I'm usually more like:

I'm won over by a good argument, I love reading Fr. Robert Barron, Peter Kreeft, Scott Hahn, Jennifer Fulwiler and Simcha Fisher.

The analytical part of my personality often makes it difficult for me to just BE with people, and often to receive or give love easily. That includes God. I get scared when I'm expected to 'love on' people, and there may have been times when all three of my roommates would be on the same bed rubbing each others' backs, while I would be on my own bed. By myself. With a book. But over the years, God (and some of the people He has put in my life) have softened my edges quite a bit. I now even voluntarily hug people (occasionally)!

So when the priest asked to me to ask God for an experience, I did... even though my logical brain reminded me that whether or not I 'felt' anything, didn't mean God loved me any more or less. I don't NEED an experience, love is made up of the will. Mother Teresa suffered many years of dryness, yet I'm sure God didn't love her any less.

What I forgot was God's extravagance, and how He gives more than we can ask or imagine when we ask with childlike faith. Also I forgot that God DOES want me to know His love, not just abstractly believe it. Not in a shallow touchy-feely way, but in a deeper, intimate way, something like the lyrics of the song 'Known' by Audrey Assad.

In the days following my prayer, I began to taste a new intimacy with Jesus. I have often told Him. "I KNOW You love me, Lord, and I KNOW You are enough, but you can't physically hug me, or make me feel your love in a tangible way."

Well, last week, He proved He could.

I have a fairly odd love language. I mean I love physical touch (receiving, not giving), acts of service, gifts, words of affirmation and quality time. But none of them are my go-to to receive love. What makes me feel super special and loved is when someone plays with my hair. I used to bribe children to play hairdresser with my hair.

So you know what God gave me?

A completely unexpected FREE FOUR HOUR HAIR TREATMENT AND HAIRCUT.

I am not even kidding. A friend said she knew people from a hairstyle academy who needed 'models' to work on, and would I like to go. Would I!! What made it even more special was that for two weeks I had been trudging through the filthy streets of Kolkata, living with friends who are trying to live a life in solidarity with the poor, and between the sweat-rolling-down-our-bodies humidity, the muddy, dirty, trash-and-human-waste-everywhere streets and the discomfort of rubbing shoulders with and smelling the human masses every day (not to mention suffering the humiliation of bad hair days... everyday, because of the humidity), our life was far from a pampered one.

This was the subdued version of my hair after a few days in humid Kolkata

For four hours, in a quiet air-conditioned room, my hair was washed, dried, every section 'treated', blow-dried, curled, my head massaged, and my hair made to look and feel awesome. Meanwhile I sat back and read a book- Strange Gods which I've been wanting to read for a while, and I just 'happened' to find in my friends' little apartment. In Kolkata. In India. What? It really happened!!!

I was so excited that I wanted to take photos of my experience. Unfortunately hair salons are one of my social anxiety hotspots (Am I obligated to talk to people? What about? Am I being too silent? Is it rude? Are they judging my terrible haircare? etc) so I felt too nervous to take pictures while my hairstylist was around, but every time he went to get something I'd sneakily take out my itouch and take a few grainy pictures.

So here you go:

Please don't notice me, please don't notice me!

The friend who also got a taste of 4 hours of being loved on by Jesus

Through the years of growing in a relationship with Jesus, I've learned that He is far more personal and real than I often expect Him to be (aren't you busy with all the REAL problems, God?). Whenever I'm willing to be wooed, He shows He is a Lover. And He wins me over.

If you don't believe me, allow yourself a moment of foolishness and ask Him if it's true.

"I don't want people to be afraid of Me anymore, but to see My heart full of love and to speak with Me as they would a dearly beloved brother. For some I am unknown. For others, a stranger, a severe master or an accuser. Few people come to Me as to one of a loved family. And yet My love is there, waiting for them. So tell them to come, to enter in, to give themselves up to love just as they are. Just as they are. I'll restore. I'll transform them. And they will know a joy they have never known before. I alone can give that joy. If only they would come! Tell them to come..."

He and I

Seven Ways I Know I'm Not a Real Housewife

----1----

I go to the vegetable market to buy vegetables, and get really excited about ALL THE VEGETABLES! I also take a photo of them when I get home. And post it on Facebook.

---2---

I spend all evening cooking ONE meal.

---3---

And am super-excited and self-congratulatory about it.

---4---

I am even more proud of the fact that I am making MULTIPLE dishes which involve multiple steps (not just dal or beans that consists of my meal for the next three days).

---5---

As I cook, I wish I had a food photographer chronicling every stage of the cooking experience. Or at least a phone camera that works. Still, I take grainy photos of the food I cook with my itouch. AND post them on my blog, unapologetic of their terrible quality.

 Cauliflower dum masala- cauliflower in a fried onion and tomato paste, with coriander and lime

 

Plum jam

 

Thecha/ Kharda: Fried and ground green chillies, garlic, salt and coriander. (OH.MY.GOSH. SO YUMMY!)

Chapatis and parathas (flatbread made from whole wheat flour, normal part of every meal an Indian eats)

---6---

I await the shock and amazement and delight that my room mate is sure to express when she find there is REAL FOOD IN THE HOUSE.

---7---

The first thing I do after cooking and eating my meal is write an entire blog post about it.

Can you even imagine a REAL housewife doing this every time she cooked a meal?

P.S. Anxious Sue would never have been able to spend a relaxing evening cooking without freaking out about all the many things she could have/should have been doing instead.