I love the reflection off Lake Basement in the morning.
“Wipe that smug look off your face” was one of my father’s go-to sayings. I hated to be humbled. Still do. But my heavenly father is also in the humbling business, so I’ve learned to, well, not like it, but at least learn from it.
We’ve had constant flood warnings lately, in the midst of the worst thunder storms in years. Still, I chuckle complacently when the alarms go off because we live on one of the highest hills in Cincinnati (named for Cincinnatus, hero of Rome, city of the seven hills). So, no flooding, right?
Basements. I was sitting down to post something profound this morning (to the world’s great deprivation, I don’t even remember what it was), when my wife, who normally speaks in full, eloquent sentences, shouted, “Honey! Basement! Flood!”
So, now, several unscheduled emergency clean-up hours later, I’m posting about my basement instead. What’s the take-away? Well, for starters: compassion. Our little inconvenience is infinitely small compared to what those who experience real disasters endure, the sudden erasure of everything they thought was permanent: their homes, their community, their lives.
God, I hate to be humbled, but I know real life experiences teach us more than newspapers or television coverage ever could. Help me never to lose my empathy, my connection to others. To remember to step up and inconvenience the hell out of myself whenever the need–the privilege–of helping others arises. In short, thanks for the reminder.
And sorry about the smugness.