Recently, I remembered a story from a long time ago. This snowballed into a related anecdote and the next thing I know, I’m contemplating ego and pride again. Here are the chain of events…
A million years ago, I was talking to some friends in front of my building. A woman who lived in the same building came frantically running out with other tenants following her — announcing that she’d accidentally locked herself out. To make matters much worse, her young daughter was locked inside. The little girl was maybe a year old.
This was before cell phones. The woman was on-again, off-again with her husband so it was unclear if she could even reach him. No one was around with a spare key.
Since she lived on the first floor, the idea was broached that someone would climb up onto the window sill and break in. In a flash, all eyes were on yours truly. Being both a juvenile delinquent and an athlete qualified me for the job. I had no doubt I could do it and was not shy about saving the day.
A crowd had gathered by then (including my Mom) and we all walked around to the side of the building. Someone arrived with masking tape and a small hammer. One of the men gave me a boost and I scampered up to balance on the window sill of the little girl’s room. From there, I could hear the baby crying inside.
I carefully taped up a small section of the window and started gently tapping it with the hammer. The whole time, the little girl’s mother was yelling for her child to stay away from the window.
Long story short, the glass broke but stayed safely attached to the tape. I contorted myself through the opening — accidentally getting a minor cut on my left shoulder. (Did I mention I was wearing a tank top?)
The baby was no longer crying. She was staring at me in wonder and surprise as I scooped her up and yelled for everyone to meet me at the apartment door. As I unlocked the door and emerged, I was greeted by a round of applause in the hallway.
The mother took her baby, kissed me on the cheek, and looked worried about my shoulder. I assured her I was fine as I glanced at my Mom who was beaming. Later, when my father got home from work, she told him all about it and announced how proud she was of me.
I was proud of myself, too, but I also needed to check myself before I foolishly started thinking I was or will ever be some kind of “hero.”
We all do.
On the concept of pride, I must add this:
Eventually, as she got older, that same little girl showed clear signs of developmental delays. Her family refused to acknowledge this and grew quite aggressive with anyone who even hinted at the idea of having her checked out. They were too proud to admit that they somehow didn’t have a fully healthy child.
“Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18)
My haughty spirit has caused me some (self-sabotaging) issues in my life. I continue to diligently work on this but, I’m certainly not the victim in this tale.
That baby girl — wherever she is today — grew into adulthood never fully getting the services and support she needed to thrive. Most likely, that impaired her self-esteem and set her up for some frustrating and perhaps ugly situations.
Rather than launching into a homily about the pitfalls of pride, I’ll simply ask: How does your ego undermine your life and what can you do to make a positive shift?
And I’ll share this from Sophocles:
“All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong, and repairs the evil. The only crime is pride. Pride is a master of deception: when you think you're occupied in the weightiest business, that's when he has you in his spell.”
Imagine a world in which, for starters, everyone chooses to take a long, deep, ego-releasing breath before any decision, response, comment, or judgment.
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Excellent writing and story. Point well demonstrated.
You’re a Hero, then and now. Ask any of the homeless women you help.