This morning I walked a block up toward town to get my monthly hair cut. One of my students trims it now. She’s the same student who last year revealed the fact she found several nasty little gray hairs near my temples.
About midway through the haircut the student, Kiara, mentioned the camera I use to take pictures at weddings. I own a Sony Alpha 100,which was named camera of the year by Popular Photography magazine. Kiara went on to mention her father bought a DSLR (Digital Single Lens Reflex).
“Oh,” I said.
“My dad says it’s better than yours,” she went on.
A simple little phrase, “My dad says it’s better than yours,” yet suddenly I felt something very harsh and ugly rise within me. I wanted to defend my precious camera.
“Did your dad’s camera win the Camera of the Year Award?”
“Has your father earned almost a thousand dollars with his camera?”
“What makes your dad’s camera so special?”
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but mean comments about my camera will never hurt me.”
Of course I didn’t actually say any of those things. I could go on though. There were so many thoughts running through my head before I finally realized how stupid I was. Who cares? What’s the big deal if her father thinks his camera is better than mine? Maybe it is. Rather than feeling upset about the comment shouldn’t I rather rejoice he’s blessed with a great camera? How can I help Kiara’s father make an even better use of his camera?
The whole instance occurred in less than thirty seconds, yet it helped me realize how much of my sinful flesh still remains waiting and willing to rear its ugly little head.
Pride. I can’t wait till I can shuffle off that horrid part of my mortal coil and move into humility.
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