“Pride goeth before destruction, and haughtiness before a fall.”
Proverbs 16:18. Heard it a million times, because I’m a prideful person. Ask any of my tennis buddies about me being at the net when a heavy hitter comes in fast to deal with a high, slow, floating ball. Common sense dictates that the player at the net back up, lest she get pegged at close range. I, however, prefer to stand my ground knowing full well that I’m a sitting duck. Seems too much like an admission of defeat to back up, and I’d rather get pegged than retreat. It’s stupid, I know. It’s dangerous, for sure. And yet, once dug in, I stay. Too proud to retreat. Somehow in my prideful, haughty brain, it makes more sense to get hit–hard and at close-range–than to back off.
Pride equals pain sometimes, but that’s the way I’m wired.
I was mighty prideful, and perhaps a bit haughty, about the fact that everyone in my house has been sick–two members of my family got the creeping crud twice–yet I remained healthy. Escaping unscathed from the bevy of germs that invaded my house for several weeks wasn’t easy, but I did it. And I was a bit smug about it, so I guess I should have been ready for the fall.
I hate being dependent on others.
I hate resting when I could be doing. Something. Anything.
I really hate having my daily routine up-ended.
The tennis season has just started up again, and I’ve been making some serious progress in the gym lately. No to mention the colossal clean-up that’s been going on at home; closets organized, pantry emptied out & re-stocked, piles of debris chucked onto the recycling pile. This is no time for me to be sidelined.
Sore throat, fever, congestion, cough, and fatigue be gone! I’m done with you.
Tomorrow will be a better day.